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4 


The Gold Bag 


By CAROLYN WELLS 


Axjthor of “The Clue,” Etc. 



With Frontispiece in Color by 
GEORGE W. BARRATT 


A. L. BURT COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS - - NEW YORK 

Published by Arrangement with J. B. Lippincott Company 






Copyright, 1910 
Bt J. B. Lippincott Coa^PANT 


Copyright, 19 ii 
Bt J. B. Lippincott CoicPAinr 



' f f3 
& 

f jg -r;^ 'in 




Published Fetmiary, 19x1 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. The Crime in West Sedgwick 9 

II. The Crawford House ...i 25 

III. The Coroner’s Jury 40 

IV. The Inquest 53 

V. Florence Lloyd 72 

VI. The Gold Bag 90 

VII. Yellow Roses 103 

VIII. Further Inquiry 118 

IX. The Twelfth Rose 13 1 

• X. The Will 147 

XI. Louis’s Story 163 

XII. Louis’s Confession 181 

XIII. Miss Lloyd’s Confidence 201 

XIV. Mr. Porter’s Views 1 217 

XV. The Photograph Explained 231 

XVI. A Call on Mrs. Purvis 244 

XVII. The Owner of the Gold Bag 254 

XVIII. In Mr. Goodrich’s Office 269 

XIX. The Midnight Train 287 

XX. Fleming Stone 308 

XXL The Disclosure 327 




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THE GOLD BAG 


I 

THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 

Though a young detective, I am not entirely 
an inexperienced one, and I have several fairly 
successful investigations to my credit on the records 
of the Central Office. 

The Chief said to me one day : Burroughs, if 
there’s a mystery to be unravelled. I’d rather put it 
in your hands than to trust it to any other man on 
the force. 

Because,” he went on, you go about it 
scientifically, and you never jump at conclusions, 
or accept them, until they’re indubitably warranted.” 

I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief’s 
kind words, but I was secretly a bit chagrined. A 
detective’s ambition is to be considered capable of 
jumping at conclusions, only the conclusions must 
always prove to be correct ones. 

But though I am an earnest and painstaking 
worker, though my habits are methodical and sys- 
tematic, and though I am indefatigably patient and 

9 


10 


THE GOLD BAG 


persevering, I can never make those brilliant de- 
ductions from seemingly unimportant clues that 
Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothing but 
observation and logical inference, but to me it is 
little short of clairvoyance. 

The smallest detail in the way of evidence im- 
mediately connotes in his mind some important fact 
that is indisputable, but which would never have 
occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a natural 
bent of his brain, for I have not yet been able to 
achieve it, either by study or experience. 

Of course I can deduce some facts, and my 
colleagues often say I am rather clever at it, but 
they don’t know Fleming Stone as well as I do, 
and don’t realize that by comparison with his talent 
mine is insignificant. 

And so, it is both by way of entertainment, 
and in hope of learning from him, that I am with 
him whenever possible, and often ask him to ** de- 
duce ” for me, even at risk of boring him, as, unless 
he is in the right mood, my requests sometimes do. 

I met him accidentally one morning when we 
both chanced to go into a basement of the Metrop- 
olis Hotel in New York to have our shoes shined. 

It was about half-past nine, and as I like to 
get to my office by ten o’clock, I looked forward 
to a pleasant half-hour’s chat with him. While 


THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 11 


waiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, 
and, seeing a pair of shoes standing on a table, 
evidently there to be cleaned, I said banteringly : 

Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those 
shoes, you can deduce all there is to know about 
the owner of them/' 

I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, 
‘‘ From a drop of water, a logician could infer 
the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without 
having seen or heard of one or the other," but 
when I heard Fleming Stone’s reply to my half- 
laughing challenge, I felt that he had outdone the 
mythical logician. With a mild twinkle in his eye, 
but with a perfectly grave face, he said slowly: 

Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet 
eight inches high. He does not live in New York, 
but is here to visit his sweetheart. She lives in 
Brooklyn, is five feet nine inches tall, and is deaf 
in her left ear. They went to the theatre last night, 
and neither was in evening dress." 

Oh, pshaw! " said I, '' as you are acquainted 
with this man, and know how he spent last evening, 
your relation of the story doesn’t interest me." 

‘‘ I don’t know him," Stone returned; I’ve no 
idea what his name is. I’ve never seen him, and 
except what I can read from these shoes I know 
nothing about him." 


12 


THE GOLD BAG 


I stared at him incredulously, as I always did 
when confronted by his astonishing “ deductions/' 
and simply said: 

‘‘ Tell this little Missourian all about it/' 

It did sound well, reeled off like that, didn't 
it? " he observed, chuckling more at my air of eager 
curiosity than at his own achievement. But it’s 
absurdly easy, after all. He is a young man be- 
cause his shoes are in the very latest, extreme, not 
exclusive style. He is five feet eight, because the 
size of his foot goes with that height of man, which, 
by the way, is the height of nine out of ten men, 
any way. He doesn’t live in New York or he 
wouldn’t be stopping at a hotel. Besides, he would 
be down-town at this hour, attending to business.'' 

“ Unless he has freak business hours, as you 
and I do,” I put in. 

Yes, that might be. But I still hold that he 
doesn’t live in New York, or he couldn’t be staying 
at this Broadway hotel overnight, and sending his 
shoes down to be shined at half-past nine in the 
morning. His sweetheart is five feet nine, for that 
is the height of a tall girl. I know she is tall, for 
she wears a long skirt. Short girls wear short 
skirts, which make them look shorter still, and tall 
girls wear very long skirts, which make them look 
taller.” 


THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 13 


“Why do they do that?” I inquired, greatly 
interested. 

“ I don’t know. You’ll have to ask that of 
some one wiser than I. But I know it’s a fact. 
A girl wouldn’t be considered really tall if less than 
five feet nine. So I know that’s her height. She 
is his sweetheart, for no man would go from New 
York to Brooklyn and bring a lady over here to 
the theatre, and then take her home, and return to 
New York in the early hours of the morning, if 
he were not in love with her. I know she lives 
in Brooklyn, for the paper says there was a heavy 
shower there last night, while I know no rain fell 
in New York. I know that they were out in that 
rain, for her long skirt became muddy, and in turn 
muddied the whole upper of his left shoe. The fact 
that only the left shoe is so soiled proves that he 
walked only at her right side, showing that she must 
be deaf in her left ear, or he would have walked 
part of the time on that side. I know that they 
went to the theatre in New York, because he is 
still sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots 
down to be cleaned, instead of coming down with 
them on his feet to be shined here. If he had been 
merely calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would 
have been home early, for they do not sit up late 
in that borough. I know they went to the theatre, 


14 


THE GOLD BAG 


instead of to the opera or a ball, for they did not 
go in a cab, otherwise her skirt would not have 
become muddied. This, too, shows that she wore 
a cloth skirt, and as his shoes are not patent leathers, 
it is clear that neither was in evening dress.” 

I didn’t try to get a verification of Fleming 
Stone’s assertions; I didn’t want any. Scores of 
times I had known him to make similar deductions, 
and in cases where we afterward learned the facts, 
he was invariably correct. So, though we didn’t 
follow up this matter, I was sure he was right, 
and, even if he hadn’t been, it would not have 
weighed heavily against his large proportion of 
proved successes. 

We separated then, as we took chairs at some 
distance from each other, and, with a sigh of regret 
that I could never hope to go far along the line 
in which Stone showed such proficiency, I began 
to read my morning paper. 

Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nod- 
ding a good-by as he passed me, and a moment 
after, my own foot-gear being in proper condition, 
I, too, went out, and went straight to my office. 

As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt 
on Stone’s quick-witted work. Again I wished that 
I possessed the kind of intelligence that makes that 
sort of thing so easy. Although unusual, it is, 


THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 15 


after all, a trait of many minds, though often, per- 
haps, unrecognized and undeveloped by its owner. 
I dare say it lies dormant in men who have never 
had occasion to realize its value. Indeed, it is of 
no continuous value to anyone but a detective, and 
nine detectives out of ten do not possess it. 

So I walked along, envying my friend Stone 
his gift, and reached my office just at ten o'clock 
as was my almost invariable habit. 

Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs ! ” cried my office- 
boy, as I opened the door. “ You're wanted on the 
telephone." 

Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, 
some excitement had made him a trifle uncere- 
monious, and I looked at him curiously as I took 
up the receiver. 

But with the first words I heard, the office-boy 
was forgotten, and my own nerves received a shock 
as I listened to the message. It was from the 
Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and 
the superintendent himself was directing me to go 
at once to West Sedgwick, where a terrible crime 
had just been discovered. 

‘^Killed!" I exclaimed; 'Joseph Crawford?” 

Yes ; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. 
The coroner telephoned to send a detective at once 
and we want you to go." 


16 


THE GOLD BAG 


“Of course I ’ll go. Do you know any more 
details ? ” 

“No; only that he was shot during the night 
and the body found this morning. Mr. Crawford 
was a big man, you know. Go right off, Mr. 
Burroughs; we want you to lose no time.” 

Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though m 
not personally, and I knew he was a big man in 
the business world, and his sudden death would ; 
mean excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his^ 
home, or home-life, I knew nothing. 

“ I ’ll go right off,” I assured the Chief, and 
turned away from the telephone to find Donovan, 
the office-boy, already looking up trains in a time- 
table. 

“ Good boy, Don,” said I approvingly ; “ what’? 
the next train to West Sedgwick, and how long 
does it take to get there? ” 

“ You kin s’lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, 
if you whirl over in a taxi an’ shoot the tunnel,” 
said Donovan, who was rather a graphic conversa- 
tionalist. “ That’ll spill you out at West Sedgwick 
’bout quarter of ’leven. Was he moidered, Mr. 
Burruz ? ” 

“ So they tell me, Don. His death will mean 
something in financial circles.” i' 




THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 17 


“ Yessir. He was a big plute. Here’s your 
time-table, Mr. Burruz. When’ll you be back? ” 

“ Don’t know, Don. You look after things.” 

Sure ! everything’ll be took care of. Lemme 
know your orders when you have ’em.” 

By means of the taxi Don had called and the 
tunnel route as he had suggested, I caught the train, 
satisfied that I h; d obeyed the Chief’s orders to 
lose no time. 

Lose no time indeed ! I was more anxious than 
any one else could possibly be to reach the scene 
of the crime before significant clues were obliterated 
or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had 
experience with the police of suburban towns, and 
I well knew their two principal types. Either they 
were of a pompous, dignified demeanor, which 
covered a bewildered ignorance, or else they were 
overzealous and worked with a misdirected energy 
that made serious trouble for an intelligent detec- 
tive. Of course, of the two kinds I preferred the 
former, but the danger was that I should encounter 
both. 

On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly 
forgot my impatience, by endeavoring to ** deduce ” 
the station or occupation of my fellow passengers. 

Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mild-faced 
gentleman, and from the general appearance of his 
2 


18 


THE GOLD BAG 


head and hat I concluded he was a clergyman. I 
studied him unostentatiously and tried to find some 
indication of the denomination he might belong to, 
or the character of his congregation, but as I 
watched, I saw him draw a* sporting paper from 
his pocket, and turning his hand, a hitherto unseen 
diamond flashed brilliantly from his little finger. I 
hastily revised my judgment, and turning slightly 
observed the man who sat next me. Determined 
to draw only logical inferences, I scrutinized his 
coat, that garment being usually highly suggestive 
to our best regulated detectives. I noticed that 
while the left sleeve was unworn and in good con- 
dition, the right sleeve was frayed at the inside edge, 
and excessively smooth and shiny on the inner fore- 
arm. Also the top button of the coat was very 
much worn, and the ' next one slightly. 

*‘A-ha!” said I to myself, “ Fve nailed you, 
my friend. You’re a desk-clerk, and you write all 
day long, standing at a desk. The worn top button 
rubs against your desk as you stand, which it would 
not do were you seated.” 

With a pardonable curiosity to learn if I were 
right, I opened conversation with the young man. 
He was not unwilling tO' respond, and after a few 
questions I learned, to my chagrin, that he was a 
photographer. Alas for my deductions ! But 


THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 19 


surely, Fleming Stone himself would not have 
guessed a photographer from a worn and shiny 
coat-sleeve. At the risk of being rudely personal, 
I made some reference to fashions in coats. The 
young man smiled and remarked incidentally, that 
owing to certain circumstances he was at the 
moment wearing his brother’s coat. 

‘‘And is your brother a desk-clerk?” inquired 
I almost involuntarily. 

He gave me a surprised glance, but answered 
courteously enough, “Yes;” and the conversation 
flagged. 

Exultantly I thought that my deduction, 
though rather an obvious one, was right; but 
after another furtive glance at the young man, I 
realized that Stone would have known he was wear- 
ing another’s coat, for it was the most glaring 
misfit in every way. 

Once more I tried, and directed my attention 
to a middle-aged, angular-looking woman, whose 
strong, sharp- featured face betokened a prim 
spinster, probably at the head of a girls’ school, or 
engaged in some clerical work. However, as I 
passed her on my way to leave the train I noticed 
a wedding-ring on her hand, and heard her say to 
her companion, “ No ; I think a woman’s sphere 
is in her own kitchen and nursery. How could I 


20 


THE GOLD BAG 


think otherwise, with my six children to bring 
up?” 

After these lamentable failures, I determined 
not to trust much to deduction in the case I w'as 
about to investigate, but to learn actual facts from 
actual e\ddence. 

I reached West Sedgwick, as Donovan had 
said, at quarts before eleven. Though I had never 
been there before, the place looked quite as I had 
imagined it. The railway station was one of those 
modern attractive structures of rough gray stone, 
with picturesque projecting roof and broad, clean 
platforms. A flight of stone steps led down to the 
roadway, and the landscape in every direction 
showed the well-kept roads, the well-grown trees 
and the care fully- tended estates of a town of sub- 
urban homes. The citizens were doubtless mainly 
men whose business was in New York, but who 
preferred not to live there. 

The superintendent must have apprised the 
coroner by telephone of my immediate arrival, 
for a village cart from the Crawford establishment 
was awaiting nne, and a smart groom approached 
and asked if I were Mr. Herbert Burroughs. 

A little disappointed at having no more desir- 
able companion on my way to the house, I climbed 
up beside the driver, and the groom solemnly took 


THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 21 


his place behind. ■ Not curiosity, but a justifiable 
desire to learn the main facts of the case as soon 
as possible, led me to question the man beside me. 

I glanced at him first and saw only the usual 
blank countenance of the well-trained coachman. 
His face was intelligent, and his eyes alert, but his 
impassive expression showed his habit of controll- 
ing any indication of interest in people or things. 

I felt there would be difficulty in ingratiating 
myself at all, but I felt sure that subterfuge would 
not help me, so I spoke directly: 

'' You are the coachman of the late Mr. Craw- 
ford? 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I hadn’t really expected more than this in 
words, but his tone was so decidedly uninviting of 
further conversation that I almost concluded to 
say nothing more. But the drive promised to be a 
fairly long one, so I made another effort. 

‘‘ As the detective on this case, I wish to hear 
the story of it as soon as I can. Perhaps you can 
give me a brief outline of what happened.” 

It was perhaps my straightforward manner, and 
my quite apparent assumption of his intelligence, 
that made the man relax a little and reply in a 
more conversational tone. 

We’re forbidden to chatter, sir,” he said. 




THE GOLD BAG 


but, bein’ as you’re the detective, I s’pose there’s 
no harm. But it’s little we know, after all. The 
master was well and sound last evenin’, and this 
mornin’ he was found dead in his own office-chair.” 

‘‘You mean a private office in his home?” 

“ Yes, sir. Mr. Crawford went to his office in 
New York ’most every day, but days when he 
didn’t go, and evenin’s and Sundays, he was much 
in his office at home, sir.” 

“Who discovered the tragedy?” 

“ I don’t rightly know, sir, if it was Louis, his 
valet, or Lambert, the butler, but it was one or 
t’other, sir.” 

“ Or both together ? ” I suggested. 

“Yes, sir; or both together.” 

“Is any one suspected of the crime?” 

The man hesitated a moment, and looked as if 
uncertain what to reply, then, as he set his jaw 
squarely, he said: 

“ Not as I knows on, sir.” 

“ Tell me something of the town,” I observed 
next, feeling that it was better to ask no more vital 
questions of a servant. 

We were driving along streets of great beauty. 
Large and handsome dwellings, each set in the 
midst of extensive and finely-kept grounds, met the 
view on either side. Elaborate entrances opened 


THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK 23 


the way to wide sweeps of driveway circling* green 
velvety lawns adorned with occasional shrubs or 
flower-beds. The avenues were wide, and bordered 
with trees carefully set out and properly trimmed. 
The streets were in fine condition, and everything 
betokened a community, not only wealthy, but in- 
telligent and public-spirited. Surely West Sedg- 
wick was a delightful location for the homes of 
wealthy New York business men. 

‘‘ Well, sir,^’ said the coachman, with uncon- 
cealed pride, “Mr. Crawford was the head of 
everything in the place. His is the handsomest 
house and the grandest grounds. Everybody re- 
spected him and looked up to him. He hadn’t 
an enemy in the world.” 

This was an opening for further conjecture as 
to the murderer, and I said : “ But the man who 
killed him must have been his enemy.” 

“ Yes, sir; but I mean no enemy that anybody 
knew of. It must have been some burglar or 
intruder.” 

Though I wanted to learn such facts as the 
coachman might know, his opinions did not in- 
terest me, and I again turned my attention to the 
beautiful residences we were passing. 

“ That place over there,” the man went on, 
pointing with his whip, “ is Mr. Philip Crawford’s 


u 


THE GOLD BAG 


house — the brother of my master, sir. Them red 
towers, sticking up through the trees, is the house 
of Mr. Lemuel Porter, a great friend of both 
the Crawford brothers. Next, on the left, is the 
home of Horace Hamilton, the great electrician. 
Oh, Sedgwick is full of well-known men, sir, but 
Joseph Crawford was king of this town. Nobody’ll 
deny that.” 

I knew of Mr. Crawford’s high standing in 
the city, and now, learning of his local preemi- 
nence, I began to think I was about to engage in 
what would probably be a very important case. 


II 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 

** Here we are, sir,’’ said the driver, as we 
turned in at a fine stone gateway. ** This is the 
Joseph Crawford place.” 

He spoke with a sort of reverent* pride, and I 
aftenv^ard learned that his devotion to his late 
master was truly exceptional. 

This probably prejudiced him in favor of the 
Crawford place and all its appurtenances, for, to 
me, the estate was not so magnificent as some of 
the others we had passed. And yet, though not 
so large, I soon realized that every detail of art 
or architecture was perfect in its way, and that it 
w^as really a gem of a country home to which I 
had been brought. 

We drove along a curving road to the house, 
passing well-arranged flower beds, and many valu- 
able trees and shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere 
the driver stopped, and the groom sprang down 
to hand me out. 

As might be expected, many people were about. 
Men stood talking in grouj^ on the veranda, while 
messengers were seen hastily coming or going 
through the open front doors. 


25 


THE GOLD BAG 


«6 


A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered 
me into a large room. 

The effect of the interior of the house impressed 
me pleasantly. As I passed through the wide hall 
and into the drawing-room, I was conscious of an 
atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and 
judgment. 

The drawing-room was elaborate, though not 
ostentatious, and seemed well adapted as a social 
setting for Joseph Crawford and his family. It 
should have been inhabited by men and women in 
gala dress and with smiling society manners. 

It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived 
its only occupant to be a commonplace looking 
man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit. He 
came forward to greet me, and his manner was a 
trifle pompous as he announced, “ My name is 
Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, are 
Mr. Burroughs, from New York.” 

It was probably not intentional, and may have 
been my imagination, but his tone seemed to me 
amusingly patronizing. 

'' Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs,” I said, and I 
looked at Mr. Monroe with what I hoped was an 
expression that would assure him that our stations 
were at least equal. 

I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE «7 

went on to tell me that he knew of my reputation 
as a clever detective, and had especially desired my 
attendance on this case. This sentiment was well 
enough, but he still kept up his air and tone of 
patronage, which however amused more than 
irritated me. 

I knew the man by hearsay, though we had 
never met before; and I knew that he was of a 
nature to be pleased with his own prominence as 
coroner, especially in the case of so important a 
man as Joseph Crawford. 

So I made allowance for this harmless conceit 
on his part, and was even willing to cater to it a 
little by way of pleasing him. He seemed to me 
a man, honest, but slow of thought ; rather practical 
and serious, and though overvaluing his own im- 
portance, yet not opinionated or stubborn, 

“ Mr. Burroughs,'' he said, I'm very glad 
you could get here so promptly ; for the case seems 
to me a mysterious one, and the value of immediate 
investigation cannot be overestimated." 

“ I quite agree with you," I returned. “ And 
now will you tell me the principal facts, as you 
know them, or will you depute some one else to 
do so?" 

I am even now getting a jury together," he 
said, and so you will be able to hear all that the 


28 


THE GOLD BAG 


witnesses may say in their presence. In the mean- 
time, if you wish to visit the scene of the crime, 
Mr. Parmalee will take you there.^* 

At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee 
stepped forward and was introduced to me. He 
proved to be a local detective, a young man who 
always attended Coroner Monroe on occasions like 
the present; but who, owing to the rarity of such 
occasions in West Sedgwick, had had little ex- 
perience in criminal investigation. 

He was a young man of the type often seen 
among Americans. He was very fair, with a pink 
complexion, thin, yellow hair and weak eyes. His 
manner was nervously alert, and though he often 
began to speak with an air of positiveness, he 
frequently seemed to weaken, and wound up his 
sentences in a floundering uncertainty. 

He seemed to be in no way jealous of my 
presence there, and indeed spoke to me with an 
air of comradeship. 

Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly 
resented this. However I did not show my resent- 
ment and endeavored to treat Mr. Parmalee as a 
friend and co-worker. 

The coroner had left us together, and we stood 
in the drawing-room, talking, or rather he talked 
and I listened. Upon acquaintance he seemed to 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 


29 


grow more attractive. He was impulsive and 
jumped at conclusions, but he seemed to have ideas, 
though they were rarely definitely expressed. 

He told me as much as he knew of the details 
of the affair and proposed that we go directly to 
the scene of the crime. 

As this was what I was impatient to do, I 
consented. 

“ You see, it’s this way,” he said, in a con- 
fidential whisper, as we traversed the long hall: 
“ there is no doubt in any one’s mind as to who 
committed the murder, but no name has been men- 
tioned yet, and nobody wants to be the first to say 
that name. It’ll come out at the inquest, of course, 
and then ” 

‘‘ But,” I interrupted, ‘‘ if the identity of the 
murderer is so certain, why did they send for me 
in such haste? ” 

Oh, that was the coroner’s doing. He’s a bit 
inclined to the spectacular, is Monroe, and he wants 
to make the whole affair as important as possible.” 

‘‘ But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain 
of the criminal it is very absurd for me to take up 
the case at all.” 

Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name 
has been spoken yet. And, too, a big case like 
this ought to have a city detective on it. Even if 


30 


THE GOLD BAG 


you only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it 
will prove to the public mind that it must be so.” 

“Tell me then, who is your suspect?” 

“ Oh, no, since you are here you had better 
investigate with an unprejudiced mind. Though 
you cannot help arriving at the inevitable con- 
clusion.” 

We had now reached a closed door, and, at 
Mr. Parmalee’s tap, were admitted by the inspector 
who was in charge of the room. 

It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and 
elaborate to be designated by the name of “ office,” 
as it was called by every one who spoke of it; 
though of course it was Mr. Crawford’s office, as 
was shown by the immense table-desk of dark 
mahogany, and all the other paraphernalia of a 
banker’s work-room, from ticker to typewriter. 

But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the 
stained glass of the windows, the pictures, rugs, 
and vases, all betokened luxurious tastes that are 
rarely indulged in office furnishings. The room 
was flooded with sunlight. Long French windows 
gave "access to a side veranda, which in turn led 
down to a beautiful terrace and formal garden. 
But all these things were seen only in a hurried 
glance, and then my eyes fell on the tragic figure 
in the desk chair. 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 


31 


The body had not been moved, and would not 
be until after the jury had seen it, and though a 
ghastly sight, because of a bullet-hole in the left 
temple, otherwise it looked much as Mr. Crawford 
must have looked in life. 

A handsome man, of large physique and strong, 
stern face, he must have been surprised, and killed 
instantly; for surely, given the chance, he would 
have lacked neither courage nor strength to grapple 
with an assailant. 

I felt a deep impulse of sympathy for that 
splendid specimen of humanity, taken unawares, 
without having been given a moment in which to 
fight for his life, and yet presumably seeing his 
murderer, as he seemed to have been shot directly 
from the front. 

As I looked at that noble face, serene and 
dignified in its death pallor, I felt glad that my 
profession was such as might lead to the avenging 
of such a detestable crime. 

And suddenly I had a revulsion of feeling 
against such petty methods as deductions fromi 
trifling clues. 

Moreover I remembered my totally mistaken 
deductions of that very morning. Let other de- 
tectives learn the truth by such claptrap means if 
they choose. This case was too large and to« 


32 


THE GOLD BAG 


serious to be allowed to depend on surmises so 
liable to be mistaken. No, I would search for 
real evidence, human testimony, reliable witnesses, 
and so tliorough, systematic, and persevering 
should my search be, that I would finally meet with 
success. 

“ Here’s the clue,” said Parmalee’s voice, as 
he grasped my arm and turned me in another 
direction. 

He pointed to a glittering article on the large 
desk. 

It was a woman’s purse, or bag, of the sort 
known as gold-mesh.” Perhaps six inches square, 
it bulged as if overcrowded with some feminine 
paraphernalia. 

‘‘ It’s Miss Lloyd’s,” went on Parmalee. She 
lives here, you loiow — Mr. Crawford’s niece. She’s 
lived here for years and years.” 

“And you suspect her?” I said, horrified. 

“ Well, you see, she’s engaged to Gregory Hall 
— he’s Mr. Crawford’s secretary — ^and Mr. Craw- 
ford didn’t approve of the match ; and so ” 

He shrugged his shoulders in a careless fashion, 
as if for a woman to shoot her uncle were an 
ever>^-day affair. 

But I was shocked and incredulous, and said so 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 


33 


‘‘ Where is Miss Lloyd? I asked. “ Does she 
claim ownership of this gold bag ? '' 

“ No ; of course not/" returned Parmalee. 

She’s no fool, Florence Lloyd isn’t ! She’s docked 
in her room and won’t come out. Been there all 
the morning. Her maid says tliis isn't Miss Lloyd’s 
bag, but of course she’d say that.” 

‘‘ Well, that question ought to be easily settled. 
What’s in the bag? ” 

Look for yourself. Monroe and I ran 
through the stuff, but there’s nothing to say for 
sure whose bag it is.” 

I opened the pretty bauble, and let the contents 
fall out on the desk. 

A crumpled handkerchief, a pair of white kid 
gloves, a little trinket known as a “ vanity case,” 
containing a tiny mirror and a tinier powder puff ; 
a couple of small hair-pins, a newspaper clipping, 
and a few silver coins were all that rewarded my 
trouble. 

Nothing definite, indeed, and yet I knew if 
Fleming Stone could look at the little heap of 
feminine belongings, he would at once tell the fair 
owner’s age, height, and weight, if not her name 
and address. 

I had only recently assured myself that such 
deductions were of little or no use, and yet, I 

3 


34 


THE GOLD BAG 


could not help minutely examining the pretty trifles 
lying on the desk. I scrutinized the handkerchief 
for a monogram or an initial, but it had none. It 
was dainty, plain and fine, of sheer linen, with a 
narrow hem. To me it indicated an owner of a 
refined, feminine type, and absolutely nothing 
more. I couldn^t help thinking that even Fleming 
Stone could not infer any personal characteristics 
of the lady from that blank square of linen. 

The vanity case I knew to be a fad of fashion- 
able women, and had that been monogrammed, it 
might have proved a clue. But, though pretty, it 
was evidently not of any great value, and was 
merely such a trifle as the average woman would 
carry about. 

And yet I felt exasperated that with so many 
articles to study, I could learn nothing of the in- 
dividual to whom they belonged. The gloves were 
hopeless. Of a good quality and a medium size, 
they seemed to tell me nothing. They were but 
slightly soiled, and apparently might have been 
worn once or twice. They had never been cleaned, 
as the inside showed no scrawled hieroglyphics. 
But all of these conclusions pointed nowhere save 
to the average well-groomed American woman. 

The hair-pins and the silver money were equally 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 


35 


bare of suggestion, but I hopefully picked up the 
bit of newspaper. 

‘‘ Surely this newspaper dipping must throw 
some light,” I mused, but it proved to be only the 
address of a dyeing and cleaning establishment in 
New York City. 

This is being taken care of ? ” I said, and the 
burly inspector, who up to now had not spoken,, 
said : 

‘‘Yes, sir! Nobody touches a thing in this 
room while Fm here. You, sir, are of course an 
exception, but no one else is allowed to meddle 
with anything.” 

This reminded me that as the detective in 
charge of this case, it was my privilege — indeed, 
my duty — to examine the papers and personal 
effects that were all about, in an effort to gather 
clues for future use. 

I was ignorant of many important details, and 
turned to Parmalee for information. 

That young man however, though voluble, was 
inclined to talk on only one subject, the suspected 
criminal, Miss Florence Lloyd. 

“ You see, it must be her bag. Because who 
else could have left it here? Mrs. Pierce, the only 
other lady in the house, doesn’t carry a youngish 


36 


THE GOLD BAG 


bag like that. She'd have a black leather bag, 
more likely, or a, — or a " 

“ Well, it really doesn't matter what kind of a 
bag Mrs. Pierce would carry," said I, a little im- 
patiently ; the thing is to prove whether this is 
Miss Lloyd's bag or not. And as it is certainly 
not a matter of conjecture, but a matter of fact, 
I think we may leave it for the present, and turn 
•our attention to other matters." 

I could see that Parmalee was disappointed that 
I had made no startling deductions from my study 
of the bag and its contents, and, partly owing to 
my own chagrin at this state of affairs, I pre- 
tended to consider the bag of little consequence, 
and turned hopefully to an investigation of the* 
room. 

The right-hand upper drawer of the double- 
pedestalled desk was open. Seemingly, Mr. Craw- 
ford had been engaged with its contents during 
the latter moments of his life. 

At a glance, I saw the drawer contained ex- 
ceedingly valuable and important papers. 

With an air of authority, intentionally exag- 
gerated for the purpose of impressing Parmalee, I 
closed the drawer, and locked it with the key 
already in the keyhole. 

This key was one of several on a key-ring, and. 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 


37 


taking it from its place, I dropped the whole bunch 
in my pocket. This action at once put me in my 
rightful place. The two men watching me un- 
consciously assumed a more deferential air, and, 
though they said nothing, I could see that their 
respect for my authority had increased. 

Strangely enough, after this episode, a new' 
confidence in my own powers took possession ®f 
me, and, shaking off the apathy that had come over 
me at sight of that dread figure in the chair, I 
set methodically to work to examine the room. 

Of course I noted the position of the furniture, 
the state of the window-fastenings, and such things 
in a few moments. The many filing cabinets and 
indexed boxes, I glanced at, and locked those that 
had keys or fastenings. 

The inspector sat with folded hands watching 
me with interest but saying nothing. Parmalee, on 
the other hand, kept up a running conversation, 
sometimes remarking lightly on my actions, and 
again returning to the subject of Miss Lloyd. 

“ I can see,'' he said, that you naturally dis- 
like to suspect a woman, and a young woman too. 
But you don't know Miss Lloyd. She is haughty 
and wilful. And as I told you, nobody has men- 
tioned her yet in this connection. But I am speak- 
ing to you alone, and I have no reason to mince 


38 


THE GOLD BAG 


matters. And you know Florence Lloyd is not 
of the Crawford stock. The Crawfords are a fine 
old family, and not one of them could be capable 
of crime. But Miss Lloyd is on the other side 
of the house, a niece of Mrs. Crawford; and I’ve 
heard that the Lloyd stock is not all that could be 
desired. There is a great deal in heredity, and she 
may not be responsible ” 

I paid little attention to Parmalee’s talk, which 
was thrown at me in jerky, desultory sentences, 
and interested me not at all. I went on with my 
work of investigation, and though I did not get 
down on my knees and examine every square inch 
of the carpet with a lens, yet I thoroughly ex- 
amined all of the contents of the room. I regret 
to say, however, that I found nothing that seemed 
to be a clue to the murderer. 

Stepping out on the veranda, I looked for foot- 
prints. The “ light snow ” usually so helpful to a 
detective had not fallen, as it was April, and rather 
warm for the season. But I found many heel- 
marks, apparently of men’s boots; 3^et they were 
not necessarily of very recent date, and I don’t 
think much of foot-print clues, anyhow. 

Then I examined the carpet, or, rather, the 
several rugs which ornamented the beautiful 
polished floor. 


THE CRAWFORD HOUSE 


39 ^ 


I found nothing but two petals of a pale yellow 
rose. They were crumpled, but not dry or with- 
ered, and, could not have been long detached from 
the blossom on which they grew. 

Parmalee chanced to have his back toward me 
as I spied them, and I picked them up and put them 
away in my pocket-book without his knowledge. 
If the stolid inspector saw me, he made no sign. 
Indeed, I think he would have said nothing if I 
had carried off the big desk itself. I looked round 
the room for a bouquet or vase of flowers from 
which the petals might have fallen, but none was 
there. 

This far I had progressed when I heard steps 
in the hall, and a moment later the coroner ushered 
the six gentlemen of his jury into the room. 


m 


THE CORONER^S JURY 

It was just as the men came in at the door, 
that I chanced to notice a newspaper that lay on 
a small table. I picked it up with an apparent 
air of carelessness, and, watching my chance, un- 
observed by Parmalee, I put the paper away in a 
drawer, which I locked. 

The six men, whom Coroner Monroe named 
over to me, by way of a brief introduction, stepped 
silently as they filed past the body of their late 
friend and neighbor. 

For the jurymen had been gathered hastily 
from among the citizens of West Sedgwick who 
chanced to be passing; and as it was after eleven 
o’clock, they were, for the most part, men of 
leisure; and occupants of the handsome homes in 
the vicinity. 

Probably none of them had ever before been 
called to act on a coroner’s jury, and all seemed 
impressed with the awfulness of the crime, as well 
as imbued with a personal sense of sorrow. 

Two of the jurors had been mentioned to me 
by name, by the coachman who brought me from 
40 


THE CORONER’S JURY 


41 


the station. Horace Hamilton and Lemuel Porter 
were near-by neighbors of the murdered man, and^ 
I judged from their remarks, were rather better 
acquainted with him than were the others. 

Mr. Hamilton was of the short, stout, bald- 
headed type, sometimes called aldermanic. It was 
plainly to be seen that his was a jocund nature, 
and the awe which he felt in this dreadful presence 
of death, though clearly shown on his rubicund 
face, was evidently a rare emotion with him. He 
glanced round the room as if expecting to see 
everything there materially changed, and though 
he looked toward the figure of Mr. Crawford now 
and then, it was with difficulty, and he averted 
his eyes as quickly as possible. He was distinctly 
nervous, and though he listened to the remarks of 
Coroner Monroe and the other jurors, he seemed 
impatient to get away. 

Mr. Porter, in appearance, was almost the exact 
reverse of Mr. Hamilton. He was a middle-aged 
man with the iron gray hair and piercing dark 
eyes that go to make up what is perhaps the 
handsomest type of Americans. He was a tall man, 
strong, lean and sinewy, with a bearing of dignity 
and decision. Both these men were well-dressed' 
to the point of affluence, and, as near neighbors 
and intimate friends of the dead man, they seemed 


42 THE GOLD BAG 

to prefer to stand together and a little apart from 
the rest. 

Three more of the jurors seemed to me not 
especially noticeable in any way. They looked as 
one would expect property owners in West Sedg- 
wick to look. They listened attentively to what 
Mr. Monroe said, asked few or no questions, and 
seemed appalled at the unusual task they had 
before them. 

Only one juror impressed me unpleasantly. 
That was Mr. Orville, a youngish man, who 
seemed rather elated at the position in which he 
found himself. He fingered nearly everything on 
the desk; he peered carefully into the face of the 
victim of the crime, and he somewhat ostentatiously 
made notes in a small Russia leather memorandum 
book. 

He spoke often to the coroner, saying things 
which seemed to me impertinent, such as, “ Have 
you noticed the blotter, Mr. Coroner? Very often, 
you know, much may be learned from the blotter 
on a man^s desk.** 

As the large blotter in question was by no 
means fresh, indeed was thickly covered with ink 
impressions, and as there was nothing to indicate 
that Mr. Crawford had been engaged in writing 
immediately before his death, Mr. Orville’s sug- 


THE CORONER’S JURY 


43 


gestion was somewhat irrelevant. And, too, the 
jurors were not detectives seeking clues, but were 
now merely learning the known facts. 

However, Mr. Orville fussed around, even 
looking into the waste-basket, and turning up a 
corner of a large rug as if ferreting for evidence. 

The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, 
and, after a few moments, they followed the cor- 
oner out of the room. 

Then the doctor and his assistants came to take 
the body away, and I went in search of Coroner 
Monroe, eager for further information concerning 
the case, of which I really, as yet, knew but little. 

Parmalee went with me and we found Mr. 
Monroe in the library, quite ready to talk with us. 

Mr. Oiwille seems to possess the detective in- 
stinct himself,'’ observed Mr. Parmalee, with what 
seemed like a note of jealousy in his tone. 

The true detective mind,” returned Mr. 
Monroe, with his slow pomposity, “ is not depend- 
ent on instinct or intuition.” 

Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that,” 
I said, or where does it differ from the ordinary 
inquiring mind ? ” 

“ Pm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Bur- 
roughs,” the coroner went on, almost as if I had 
not spoken, “ that it depends upon a nicely adjusted 


44 


THE GOLD BAG 


mentality that is quick to see tlie cause back of 
an effect/' 

To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, 
but there was something in the unctuous roll of 
Mr. Monroe's words that made me positive he 
was quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had 
not himself a perfectly clear comprehension of its 
meaning. 

It’s guessing,” declared Parmalee, that’s all 
it is, guessing. If you guess right, you’re a famous 
detective; if you guess wrong, you’re a dub. 
That’s all there is about it.” 

No, no, Mr. Parmalee,” — and Mr. Monroe 
slowly shook his finger at the rash youth — “ what 
you call guessing is really divination. Yes, my 
dear sir, it is actual divination.” 

“ To my mind,” I put in, ‘‘ detective divination 
is merely minute observation. But why do we 
quibble over words and definitions when there is 
much work to be done? When is the formal in- 
quest to be held, Mr. Monroe?” 

‘‘ This afternoon at two o’clock,” he replied. 

‘‘ Then I’ll go away now,” I said, for I must 
find an abiding place for myself in West Sedgwick. 
There is an inn, I suppose.” 

“ They’ll probably ask you to stay here,” ob- 
served Coroner Monroe, but I advise you not 


THE CORONER’S JURY 


45 


to do so. I think you’ll be freer and less hampered 
in your work if you go to the inn.” 

I quite agree with you,” I replied. But I 
see little chance of being invited to stay here. 
Where is the family ? Who are in it ? ” 

‘‘ Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, 
a niece of Mr. Crawford. That is, she is the niece 
of his wife. Mrs. Crawford has been dead many 
years, and Miss Lloyd has kept house for her uncle 
all that time. Then there is Mrs. Pierce, an elderly 
lady and a distant relative of Mr. Crawford’s. 
That is all, except the secretary, Gregory Hall, who 
lives here much of the time. That is, he has a 
room here, but often he is in New York or else- 
where on Mr. Crawford’s business.” 

“ Mr. Crawford had an office both here and 
in New York? ” I asked. 

“Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home 
as much as possible. He went to New York only 
about three or four days in the week, and con- 
ducted his business from here the rest of the time. 
Young Hall is a clever fellow, and has been Mr. 
Crawford’s right-hand man for years.” 

“ Where is he now ? ” 

“ We think he’s in New York, but haven’t yet 
been able to locate him at Mr. Crawford’s office 
there, or at his club. He is engaged to Miss Lloyd, 


46 


THE GOLD BAG 


though I understand that the engagement is con- 
trary to Mr. Crawford’s wishes.” 

And where is Miss Lloyd, — and Mrs. 
Pierce ? ” 

“ They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce 
is prostrated at the tragedy, and Miss Lloyd simply 
refuses to make her appearance.” 

But she’ll have to attend the inquest ? ” 

Oh, yes, of course. She’ll be with us then. 
I think I won’t say anything about her to you, as 
I’d rather you’d see her first with entirely un- 
prejudiced eyes.” 

“ So you, too, think Miss Lloyd is implicated ? ” 

“ I don’t think anything about it, Mr. Bur- 
roughs. As coroner it is not my place to think 
along such lines.” 

“ Well, everybody else thinks sso,” broke in 
Parmalee. “ And why ? Because there’s no one 
else for suspicion to light on. No one else who 
by any possibility could have done the deed.” 

‘‘ Oh, come now, Mr. Parmalee,” said I, 
there must be others. They may not yet have 
come to our notice, but surely you must admit an 
intruder could have come into the room by way of 
those long, open windows.” 

‘‘These speculations are useless, gentlemen,” 
said Mr. Monroe, with his usual air of settling the 


THE CORONER’S JURY 


47 


matter. Cease then, I beg, or at least postpone 
them. If you are walking down the avenue, Mr. 
Parmalee, perhaps you’ll be good enough to con- 
duct Mr. Burroughs to the Sedgwick Arms, where 
he doubtless can find comfortable accommodations.” 

I thanked Mr. Monroe for the suggestion, but 
said, straightforwardly enough, that I was not yet 
quite ready to leave the Crawford house, but that 
I would not detain Mr. Parmalee, for I could my- 
self find my way to the inn, having noticed it on 
my drive from the train. 

So Parmalee went away, and I was about to 
return to Mr. Crawford’s office where I hoped to 
pursue a little uninterrupted investigation. 

But Mr. Monroe detained me a moment, to 
present me to a tall, fine-looking man who had 
just come in. 

He proved to be Philip Crawford, a brother 
of Joseph, and I at once observed a strong re- 
semblance between their two faces. 

“ I am glad to meet you, Mr. Burroughs,” he 
said. ‘‘ Mr. Monroe tells me you are a clever and 
experienced detective, and I trust you can help us 
to avenge this dastardly crime. I am busy with 
some important matters just now, but later I shall 
be glad to confer with you, and be of any help I 
can in your investigation.” 


48 


THE GOLD BAG 


1 looked at Mr. Philip Crawford curiously. Of 
course I didn’t expect him to give way to emotional 
grief, but it jarred on me to hear him refer to his 
brother’s tragic death in such cold tones, and with 
such a businesslike demeanor. 

However, I realized I did not know the man 
at all, and this attitude might be due to his effort 
in concealing his real feelings. 

He looked very like his brother Joseph, and I 
gathered from the appearance of both men, and 
the manner of Philip, that the Crawford nature 
was one of repression and self-control. Moreover, 
1 knew nothing of the sentiments of the two 
brothers, and it might easily be that they were not 
entirely in sympathy. 

I thanked him for his offer of help, and then 
as he volunteered no further observations, I ex- 
cused myself and proceeded alone to the library. 

As I entered the great room and closed the 
door behind me, I was again impressed by the 
beauty and luxury of the appointments. Surely 
Joseph Crawford must have been a m.an of fine 
calibre and refined tastes to enjoy working in such 
an atmosphere. But I had only two short hours 
before the inquest, and I had many things to do, 
so for the moment I set myself assiduously to work 
examining the room again. As in my first ex- 


THE CORONER’S JURY 


40 


amination, I did no microscopic scrutinizing; but 
I looked over the papers on and in the desk, I noted 
conditions in the desk of Mr. Hall, the secretary, 
and I paid special attention to the position of the 
furniture and windows, my thoughts all directed 
to an intruder from outside on Mr. Crawford's 
midnight solitude. 

I stepped through the long French window on 
to the veranda, and after a thorough examination 
of the veranda, I went on down the steps to the 
gravel walk. Against a small rosebush, just off 
the walk, I saw a small slip of pink paper. I 
picked it up, hardly daring to hope it might be a 
clue, and I saw it was a trolley transfer, whose 
punched holes indicated that it had been issued the 
evening before. It might or might not be impor- 
tant as evidence, but I put it carefully away in my 
note-book for later consideration. 

Returning to the library I took the newspaper 
which I had earlier discovered from the drawer 
where I had hidden it, and after one more swift 
but careful glance round the room, I went away, 
confident that I had not done my work carelessly. 

I left the Crawford house and walked along 
the beautiful avenue to the somewhat pretentious 
inn bearing the name of Sedgwick Arms. 

Here, as I had been led to believe, I found 
4 


50 


THE GOLD BAG 


pleasant, even luxurious accommodations. The 
landlord of the inn was smiling and pleasant, 
although landlord seems an old-fashioned term to- 
apply to the very modern and up-to-date man who 
received me. 

His name was Carstairs, and he had the genial, 
perceptive manner of a man about town. 

‘‘ Dastardly shame ! ” he exclaimed, after he 
had assured himself of my identity. “ Joseph 
Crawford was one of our best citizens, one of our 
finest men. He hadn’t an enemy in the world, my 
dear Mr. Burroughs — not an enemy ! generous, 
kindly nature, affable and friendly with all.” 

But I understand he frowned on his ward’s 
love affair, Mr. Carstairs.” 

“Yes; yes, indeed. And who wouldn’t? 
Young Hall is no fit mate for Florence Lloyd. 
He’s a fortune-hunter. I know the man, and his 
only ambition is the aggrandizement of his own 
precious self.” 

“ Then you don’t consider Miss Lloyd con- 
cerned in this crime ? ” ^ 

“ Concerned in crime ? Florence Lloyd ! why, 
man, you must be crazy! The idea is unthink- 
able!” 

I was sorry I had spoken, but I remembered 


THE CORONER’S JURY 


61 


too late that the suspicions which pointed toward 
Miss Lloyd were probably known only to those 
who had been in the Crawford house that morning. 
As for the townspeople in general, though they 
knew of the tragedy, they knew very little of its 
details. 

I hastened to assure Mr. Car stairs that I had 
never seen Miss Lloyd, that I had formed no 
opinions whatever, and that I was merely repeating 
what were probably vague and erroneous sus- 
picions of mistakenly-minded people. 

At last, behind my locked door, I took from 
my pocket the newspaper I had brought from Mr. 
Crawford’s office. 

It seemed to me important, from the fact that 
it was an extra, published late the night before. 

An Atlantic liner had met with a serious 
accident, and an extra had been hastily put forth 
by one of the most enterprising of our evening 
papers. I, myself, had bought one of these extras, 
about midnight; and the finding of a copy in the 
office of the murdered man might prove a clue to 
the criminal. 

I then examined carefully the transfer slip I 
had picked up on the Crawford lawn. It had been 
issued after nine o’clock the evening before. This 


THE GOLD BAG 


seemed to me to prove that the holder of that 
transfer must have been on the Crawford property 
and near the library veranda late last night, and 
it seemed to me that this was plain common-sense 
reasoning, and not mere intuition or divination. 
The transfer might have a simple and innocent 
explanation, but until I could learn of that, I should 
hold it carefully as a possible clue. 


IV 


THE INQUEST 

Shortly before two o’clock I was back at the 
Crawford house and found the large library, where 
the inquest was to be held, already well filled with 
people. I took an inconspicuous seat, and turned 
my attention first to the group that comprised, 
without a doubt, the members of Mr. Crawford’s 
household. 

Miss Lloyd — for I knew at a glance the black- 
robed young woman must be she — was of a striking 
personality. Tall, large, handsome, she could have 
posed as a model for Judith, Zenobia, or any of 
the great and powerful feminine characters in 
history. I was impressed not so much by her 
beauty as by her effect of power and ability. 1 
had absolutely no reason, save Parmalee’s bab- 
blings, to suspect this woman of crime, but I could 
not rid myself of a conviction that she had every 
appearance of being capable of it. 

Yet her face was full of contradictions. The 
dark eyes were haughty, even imperious; but the 
red, curved mouth had a tender expression, and 

S3 


54 


THE GOLD BAG 


the chin, though firm and decided-looking, yet gave 
an impression of gentleness. 

On the whole, she fascinated me by the very 
mystery of her charm, and I found my eyes in- 
voluntarily returning again and again to that 
beautiful face. 

She was dressed in a black, trailing gown of 
material which I think is called China crepe. It 
fell around her in soft waving folds and lay in 
little billows on the floor. Her dark hair was 
dressed high on her head, and seemed to form a 
sort of crown which well suited her regal type. 
She held her head high, and the uplift of her chin 
seemed to be a natural characteristic. 

Good birth and breeding spoke in every phase 
of her personality, and in her every movement and 
gesture. I remembered Parmalee’s hint of un- 
worthy ancestors, and cast it aside as impossible 
of belief. She spoke seldom, but occasionally 
turned to the lady at her side with a few murmured 
words that were indubitably those of comfort or 
encouragement. 

Her companion, a gray-haired, elderly lady, 
was, of course, Mrs. Pierce. She was trembling 
with the excitement of the occasion, and seemed 
to depend on Florence Lloyd's strong personality 


THE INQUEST 55 

and affectionate S 3 mipathy to keep her from utter 
collapse. 

Mrs. Pierce was of the old school of gentle- 
women. Her quiet, black gown with its crepe 
trimmings, gave, even to my masculine eye an 
effect of correct and fashionable, yet quiet and 
unostentatious mourning garb. 

She had what seemed to me a puzzling face. It 
did not suggest strength of character, for the soft 
old cheeks and quivering lips indicated no strong 
self-control, and yet from her sharp, dark eyes she 
now and again darted glances that were unmis- 
takably those of a keen and positive personality. 

I concluded that hers was a strong nature, but 
shaken to its foundation by the present tragedy. 
There was, without doubt, a great affection exist- 
ing between her and Miss Lloyd, and yet I felt 
that they were not in each other’s complete con- 
fidence. 

Though, for that matter, I felt intuitively that 
few people possessed the complete confidence of 
Florence Lloyd. Surely she was a wonderful 
creature, and as I again allowed myself to gaze on 
her beautiful face I was equally convinced of the 
possibility of her committing a crime and the im- 
probability of her doing so. 

Near these two sat a young man who, I was 


56 


THE GOLD BAG 


told, was Gregory Hall, the secretary. He had been 
reached by telephone, and had come out from New 
York, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford 
house. 

Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average 
type of young American citizens. He was fairly 
good-looking, fairly well-groomed, and so far as 
I could judge from his demeanor, fairly well-bred. 
His dark hair was commonplace, and parted on the 
side, while his small, carefully arranged mustache 
was couMBonplace also. He looked exactly w^hat 
he was, the trusted secretary of a financial mag- 
nate, and he seemed to me a man whose dress, 
manner, and speech would always be made ap- 
propriate to the occasion or situation. In fact, so 
thoroughly did he exhibit just such a demeanor 
as suited a confidential secretary at the inquest of 
his murdered employer, that I involuntarily thought 
wdiat a fine undertaker he would have made. For, 
in my experiaice, no class of men so perfectly 
adapt themselves to varying atmospheres as under- 
takers. 

Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic look- 
ing young chap, were also in this group. Young 
Crawford inherited to a degree the fine appear- 
ance of his father and uncle, and bade fair to 


THE INQUEST 57 

become the same kind of a first-class American 
citizen as they. 

Behind these people, the ones most nearly in- 
terested in the procedure, were gathered the several 
servants of the house. 

Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed. 

The man was a somewhat pompous, middle- 
aged Englishman, and though of stolid appearance, 
his face showed what might perhaps be described 
as an intelligent stupidity. 

After a few formal questions as to his position 
in the household, the coroner asked him to tell his 
own story of the early morning. 

In a more clear and concise way than I should 
have thought the man capable of, he detailed his 
discovery of his master’s body. 

I came down-stairs at seven this morning,” 
he said, as I always do. I opened the house, I 
saw the cook a few moments about matters pertain- 
ing to breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. 
At about half-past seven I went to Mr. Crawford’s 
office, to set it in order for the day, and as I opened 
the door I saw him sitting in his chair. At first 
I thought he’d dropped asleep there, and been there 
all night, then in a moment I saw what had hap- 
pened.” 


58 


THE GOLD BAG 


** Well, what did you do next ? ” asked the 
coroner, as the man paused. 

“ I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford’s 
valet. He was just coming down the stairs. He 
looked surprised, for he said Mr. Crawford was 
not in his room, and his bed hadn’t been slept in.” 

Did he seem alarmed ? ” 

“ No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn’t 
seemed alarmed. But he seemed agitated, for of 
course it was most unusual not finding Mr. Craw- 
ford in his own room.” 

How did Louis show his agitation ? ” broke 
in Mr. Orville. 

“ Well, sir, perhaps he wasn’t to say agitated, 
— ^he looked more blank, — ^yes, as you might say, — 
blank.” 

‘‘Was he trembling?” persisted Mr. Orville, 
“was he pale?” and the coroner frowned slightly 
at this juror’s repeated inquisitiveness. 

“ Louis is always pale,” returned the butler, 
seeming to make an effort to speak the exact 
truth. 

“ Then of course you couldn’t judge of his 
knowledge of the matter,” Mr. Orville said, with 
an* air of one saying something of importance. 

“ He had no knowledge of the matter, if you 


THE INQUEST 


59 


mean Mr. Crawford’s death,” said Lambert, look- 
ing disturbed and a little bewildered. 

Tell your own story, Lambert,” said Coroner 
Monroe, rather crisply. We’ll hear what Louis 
has to say later.” 

“ Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and 
we both saw the — the accident, and we wondered 
what to do. I was for telephoning right off to 
Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we’d better 
tell Miss Florence about it.” 

And did you?” 

“We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, 
Miss Lloyd’s maid, was on the stairs. So we told 
her, and told her to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask her for 
orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor 
Fairchild, and so we did. He came as soon as 
he could, and he’s been in charge ever since, sir.” 

“ A straightforward story, clearly told,” ob- 
sen^ed the coroner, and tlien he called upon Louis, 
the valet. This witness, a young Frenchman, was 
far more nervous and excited than the calm-man- 
nered butler, but the gist of his story corroborated 
Lambert’s. 

Asked if he was not called upon to attend his 
master at bedtime, he replied: 

''Nan, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford oat 
late in his library, or his office, he dismiss me, 


60 


THE GOLD BAG 


and say 1 may go to bed, or whatever I like. 
Almost alway he tell me that/^ 

“ And he told you this last night ? 

But yes. When I lay out his clothes for 
dinner, he then tell me so.’' 

Although the man seemed sure enough of his 
statements -he was evidently troubled in his mind. 
It might have been merely that his French nature 
was more excitable than the stolid indifference of 
the English butler. But at the same time I couldn’t 
help feeling that the man had not told all he knew. 
This was merely surmise on my part, and I could 
not persuade myself that there was enough ground 
for it to call it even an intuition. So I concluded 
it best to ask no questions of the valet at present, 
but to look into his case later. 

Parmalee, however, seemed to have concluded 
differently. He looked at Louis with an intent 
gaze as he said, Had your master said or done 
anything recently to make you think he was 
despondent or troubled in any way ? ” 

'‘No, sir,” said the man; but the answer was 
not spontaneous, and Louis’s eyes rolled around 
with an expression of fear. I was watching him 
closely myself, and I could not help seeing that 
against his will his glance sought always Florence 
Lloyd, and though he quickly averted it, he was 


THE INQUEST 6 

unable to refrain from furtive, fleeting looks in hei 
direction. 

‘‘ Do you know anything more of this matter 
than you have told us ? ” inquired the coroner of 
the witness. 

“ No, sir,” replied Louis, and this time he 
spoke as with more certainty. After Lambert and 
I came out of Mr. Crawford’s office, we did just 
exactly as Lambert has tell you.” 

“ That’s all, Louis. . . . But, Lambert, 

one other matter. Tell us all you know of Mr. 
Joseph Crawford’s movements last evening.” 

“ He was at dinner, as usual, sir,” said the 
butler, in his monotonous drawl. There were no 
guests, only the family. After dinner Mr. Craw- 
ford went out for a time. He returned about nine 
o’clock. I saw him come in, with his own key, and 
I saw him go to his office. Soon after Mr. Porter 
called.” 

‘‘Mr. Lemuel Porter?” asked the coroner. 

“Yes, sir,” said the butler; and Mr. Porter, 
who was one of the jurors, gravely nodded his 
head in acquiescence. 

“ He stayed until about ten, I should say,” 
went on the butler, and again Mr. Porter gave an 
affirmative nod. “ I let him out myself,” went on 
Lambert, “ and soon after that I went to the 


THE GOLD BAG 


)2 

library to see if Mr. Crawford had any orders for 
me. He told me of some household matters he 
wished me to attend to to-day, and then he said he 
would sit up for some time longer, and I might 
go to bed if I liked. A very kind and considerate 
man, sir, was Mr. Crawford.’’ 

And did you then go to bed ? ” 

** Yes, sir. I locked up all the house, except 
the office. Mr. Crawford always locks those win- 
dows himself, when he sits up late. The ladies had 
already gone to their rooms; Mr. Hall was away 
for the night, so I closed up the front of the house, 
and went to bed. That’s all I know about the 
matter, sir — until I came down-stairs this morn- 
ing.” 

You heard no sound in the night — no re- 
volver shot ? ” 

“ No, sir. But my room is on the third floor, 
and at the other end of the house, sir. I couldn’t 
hear a shot fired in the office. I’m sure, sir.” 

“ And you found no weapon of any sort in 
the office this morning? ” 

No, sir; Louis and I both looked for that, 
but there was none in the room. Of that I’m sure, 
sir.” 

** That will do, Lambert.” 

‘‘Yes, sir; thank you, sir.” 


THE INQUEST 


63 


One moment/' said I, wishing to know the 
exact condition of the house at midnight. You 
say, Lambert, you closed up the front of the house. 
Does that mean there was a back door open ? " 

‘‘ It means I locked the front door, sir, and 
put the chain on. The library door opening on 
to the veranda I did not lock, for, as I said, Mr. 
Crawford always locks that and the windows in 
there when he is there late. The back door I left 
on the night latch, as Louis was spending the even- 
ing out." 

“ Oh, Louis was spending the evening out, was 
he? " exclaimed Mr. Orville. “ I think that should 
be looked into, Mr. Coroner. Louis said nothing 
of this in his testimony." 

Coroner Monroe turned again to Louis and 
asked him where he was the evening before. 

The man was now decidedly agitated, but by an 
effort he controlled himself and answered steadily 
enough : 

“ I have tell you that Mr. Crawford say I may 
go wherever I like. And so, last evening I spend 
with a young lady." 

‘‘ At what time did you go out ? " 

“ At half after the eight, sir." 

‘'And what time did you return?’* 

“ I return about eleven." 


64 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ And did you then see a light in Mr. Craw- 
ford's office ? " 

Louis hesitated a moment. It could easily be 
seen that he was pausing only to enable himself to 
speak naturally and clearly, but it was only after 
one of those darting glances at Miss Lloyd that 
he replied: 

I could not see Mr. Crawford’s office, because 
I go around the other side of tlie house. I make 
my entree by the back door; I go straight to my 
room, and I know nothing of my master until I 
go to his room this morning and find him not 
there.” 

“ Then you didn’t go to his room last night 
on your return ? ” 

‘‘ As I pass his door, I see it open, and hie 
light low, so I know he is still below stair.” 

“ And you did not pass by the library on your 
way round the house? ” 

Louis’s face turned a shade whiter than usual, 
but he said distinctly, though in a low voice, ‘‘ No, 
sir.” 

An involuntary gasp as of amazement was 
heard, and though I looked quickly at Miss Lloyd, 
it was not she who had made the sound. It was 
one of the maidservants, a pretty Gennan girl, who 
sat behind Miss Lloyd. No one else seemed to 


THE INQUEST 


65 


notice it, and I realized it was not surprising that 
the strain of the occasion should thus disturb the 
girl. 

“You heard Louis come in, Lambert?” asked 
Mr. Monroe, who was conducting tlie whole in- 
quiry in a conversational way, rather than as a 
formal inquest. 

“Yes, sir; he came in about eleven, and went 
directly to his room.” 

The butler stood with folded hands, a sad ex- 
pression in his eyes, but with an air of importance 
that seemed to be inseparable from him, in any 
circumstances. 

Doctor Fairchild was called as the next witness. 

He testified that he had been summoned that 
morning at about quarter before eight o’clock. 
He had gone immediately to Mr. Crawford’s 
house, was admitted by the butler, and taken at 
once to the office. He found Mr. Crawford dead 
in his chair, shot through the left temple witli a 
thirty-two calibre revolver. 

“ Excuse me,” said Mr. Lemuel Porter, who, 
with the other jurors, was listening attentively to 
all the testimony. “ If the weapon was not found, 
how do you know its calibre ? ” 

“ I extracted the bullet from the wound,” re- 
turned Doctor Fairchild, “ and those who know 


5 


THE GOLD BAG 


6(j 

have pronounced it to be a ball fired from a small 
pistol of thirty-two calibre/’ 

“ But if Mr. Crawford had committed suicide, 
the pistol would have been there,” said Mr. Porter, 
who seemed to be a more 'acute thinker than the 
other jurymen. 

Exactly,” agreed the coroner. “ That’s why 
we must conclude that Mr. Crawford did not take 
his own life.” 

Nor would he have done so,” declared Doctor 
Fairchild. I have known the deceased for many 
years. He had no reason for wishing to end his 
life, and, I am sure, no inclination to do so. He 
was shot by an alien hand, and the deed w^ 
probably committed at or near midnight.” 

Thus we assume,” the coroner went on, as 
the doctor finished his simple statement and re- 
sumed his seat, “ that Mr. Crawford remained in 
his office, occupied with his business matters, until 
midnight or later, when some person or persons 
came into his room-, murdered him, and went away 
again, without making sufficient noise or disturb- 
ance to arouse the sleeping household.” 

Perhaps Mr. Crawford himself had fallen 
asleep in his chair,” suggested one of the jurors, 
— ^the Mr. Orville, who was continually taking 
notes in his little book. 


THE INQUEST 


67 


It is possible,” said the doctor, as the remark 
was practically addressed to him, but not 
probable. The attitude in which the body was 
found indicates that the victim was awake, and in 
full possession of his faculties. Apparently he 
made no resistance of any sort.” 

“ Which seems to show,” said the coroner, 
“ that his assailant was not a burglar or tramp, 
for in that case he would surely have risen and 
tried to put him out. The fact that Mr. Crawford 
was evidently shot by a person standing in front 
of him, seems to imply that that person’s attitude 
was friendly, and that the victim had no suspicion 
of the danger that threatened him.” 

This was clear and logical reasoning, and I 
looked at the coroner in admiration, until I sud- 
denly remembered Parmalee’s hateful suspicion and 
wondered if Coroner Monroe was preparing for an 
attack upon Miss Lloyd. 

Gregory Hall was summoned next. 

He was self-possessed and even cool in his de- 
meanor. There was a. frank manner about him 
that pleased me, but there was also a something 
which repelled me. 

I couldn’t quite explain it to myself, but while 
he had an air of extreme straightforwardness, 
there was also an indefinable effect of reserve. I 


f>8 


THE GOLD BAG 


couldn't help feeling that if this man had anything 
to conceal, he would be quite capable of doing so 
under a mask of great outspokenness. 

But, as it turned out, he had nothing either to 
conceal Or reveal, for he had been away from West 
Sedgwick since six o’clock the night before, and 
knew nothing of the tragedy until he heard of it 
by telephone at Mr. Crawford’s New York office 
that morning about half-past ten. This made him 
of no importance as a witness, but Mr. Monroe 
asked him a few questions. 

‘‘ You left here last evening, you say? ” 

“ On the six o’clock train to New York, yes.” 
For what purpose? ” 

On business for Mr. Crawford.” 

Did that business occupy you last evening? ” 

Mr. Hall looked surprised at this question, but 
answered quietly: 

‘‘No; I was to attend to the business to-day. 
But I often go to New York for several days at 
a time.” 

“ And where were you last evening? ” pursued 
the coroner. 

This time Mr. Hall looked more surprised still, 
and said : 

“ As it has no bearing on the matter in hand, 


THE INQUEST 69 

I prefer not to answer that rather personal 
question/’ 

Mr. Monroe looked surprised in his turn, and 
said : “ I think I must insist upon an answer, Mr. 
Hall, for it is quite necessary that we learn the 
whereabouts of every member of this household last 
evening.” 

I cannot agree with you, sir,” said Gregoiy 
Hall, coolly ; ‘‘ my engagements for last evening 
were entirely personal matters, in no way con- 
nected with Mr. Crawford’s business. As I was 
not in West Sedgwick at the time my late employer 
met his death, I cannot see that my private affairs 
need be called into question.” 

“ Quite so, quite so,” put in Mr. Orville ; but 
Lemuel Porter interrupted him. 

Not at all so. I agree with Mr. Monroe, that 
Mr. Hall should frankly tell us where he spent 
last evening.” 

And I refuse to do so,” said Mr. Hall, speak- 
ing not angrily, but with great decision. 

“ Your refusal may tend to direct suspicion 
toward yourself, Mr. Hall,” said the coroner. 

Gregory Hall smiled slightly. As I was out 
of town, your suggestion sounds a little absurd. 
However, I take that risk, and absolutely refuse 


TO THE GOLD BAG 

t© answer any questions save those which relate 
to the matter in hand.” 

Coroner Monroe looked rather helplessly at his 
jurors, but as none of them said anything further, 
he turned again to Gregory Hall. 

‘‘ The telephone message you received this 
morning, then, was the first knowledge you had of 
Mr. Crawford’s death ? ” 

It was.” 

‘‘ And you came out here at once? ” 

‘‘Yes; on the first train I could catch.” 

“ I am sorry you resent personal questions, 
Mr. Hall, for I must ask you some. Are you 
engaged to Mr. Crawford’s niece. Miss Lloyd ? ” 

“ I am.” 

This answer was given in a low, quiet tone, 
apparently without emotion of any kind, but Miss 
Lloyd showed a different attitude. At the words 
of Gregory Hall, she blushed, dropped her eyes, 
fingered her handkerchief nervously, and evinced 
just such embarrassment as might be expected 
from any young woman, in the event of a public 
mention of her betrothal. And yet I had not looked 
for such an exhibition from Florence Lloyd. Her 
very evident strength of character would seem to 
preclude the actions of an inexperienced debutante. 


THE INQUEST 


71 


“ Did Mr. Crawford approve of your engage- 
ment to his niece ? pursued Mr. Monroe. 

“With all due respect, Mr. Coroner,^’ saM 
Gregory Hall, in his subdued but firm way, “ I 
cannot think these questions are relevant or 
pertinent. Unless you can assure me that they are, 
I prefer not to reply.’' 

“ They are both relevant and pertinent to the 
matter in hand, Mr. Hall; but I am now of the 
opinion that they would better be asked of mother 
witness. You are excused. I now call Mim 
Florence Lloyd.” 


V 


FLORENCE LLOYD 

A STIR was perceptible all through the room as 
Miss Lloyd acknowledged by a bow of her beautiful 
head the summons of the coroner. 

The jurors looked at her with evident sym- 
pathy and admiration, and I remembered that as 
they were fellow-townsmen and neighbors they 
probably knew the young woman well, and she 
was doubtless a friend of their own daughters. 

It seemed as if such social acquaintance 
must prejudice them in her favor, and perhaps 
render them incapable of unbiased judgment, 
should her evidence be incriminating. But in my 
secret heart, I confess, I felt glad of this. I was 
glad of anything that would keep even a shadow 
of suspicion away from this girl to whose fascinat- 
ing charm I had already fallen a victim. 

Nor was I the only one in the room who 
dreaded the mere thought of Miss Lloyd’s con- 
nection with this horrible matter. 

Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter were, I could 
see, greatly concerned lest some mistaken suspicion 
should indicate any doubt of the girl. I could see 
72 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


73 


by their kindly glances that she was a favorite, and 
was absolutely free from suspicion in their minds. 

Mr. Orville had not quite the same attitude. 
Though he looked at Miss Lloyd admiringly, I felt 
sure he was alertly ready to pounce upon anything 
that might seem to connect her with a guilty 
knowledge of this crime. 

Gregory Hall’s attitude was inexplicable, and I 
concluded I had yet much to learn about that young 
man. He looked at Miss Lloyd critically, and 
though his glance could not be called quite un- 
sympathetic, yet it showed no definite sympathy. 
He seemed to be coldly weighing her in his own 
mental balance, and he seemed to await whatever 
she might be about to say with the impartial air 
of a disinterested judge. Though a stranger my- 
self, my heart ached for the young woman who was 
placed so suddenly in such a painful position, but 
Gregory Hall apparently lacked any personal in- 
terest in the case. 

I felt sure this was not true, that he was not 
really so unconcerned as he appeared; but I could 
not guess why he chose to assume an impassive 
mask. 

Miss Lloyd had not risen as it was not required 
of her, and she sat expectant, but with no sign of 
nervousness. Mrs. Pierce, her companion, was 


74 


THE GOLD BAG 


simply quivering with agitation. Now and again 
she would touch Miss Lloyd’s shoulder or hand, 
or whisper a word of encouragement, or perhaps 
wring her own hands in futile despair. 

Of course these demonstrations were of little 
avail, nor did it seem as if Florence Lloyd needed 
assistance or support. 

She gave the impression not only of general 
capability in managing her own affairs, but of a 
special strength in an emergency. 

And an emergency it was; for though the two 
before-mentioned jurors, who had been intimate 
friends of her uncle, were doubtless in sympathy 
with M4SS Lloyd, and though the coroner was 
kindly disposed toward her, yet the other jurors 
took little pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, 
and as for Mr. Parmalee, he was fairly eager with 
anticipation of the revelations about to come. 

“Your name?” said the corner briefly, as if 
conquering his own sympathy by an unnecessarily 
formal tone. 

“ Florence Lloyd,” was the answer. 

“ Your position in this house? ” 

“ I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who 
died many years ago. Since her death I have lived 
with Mr. Crawford, occupying in every respect the 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


75 


position of his daughter, though not legally adopted 
as such/^ 

‘‘ Mr. Crawford was always kind to you? '' 

More than kind. He was generous and in- 
dulgent, and, though not of an affectionate nature, 
he was always courteous and gentle.” 

‘‘ Will you tell us of the last time you saw him 
alive?” 

Miss Lloyd hesitated. She showed no embar- 
rassment, no trepidation; she merely seemed to 
be thinking. 

Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of 
the servants, Mrs. Pierce, Mr. Philip Crawford, 
the jurors, and, lastly, dwelt for a moment on the 
now anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall. 

Then she said slowly, but in an even, un- 
emotional voice : It was last night at dinner. 
After dinner was over, my uncle went out, and 
before he returned I had gone to my room.” 

“Was there anything unusual about his appear- 
ance or demeanor at dinner-time? ” 

“ No; I noticed nothing of the sort.” 

“ Was he troubled or annoyed about any 
matter, that you know of?” 

“ He was annoyed about one matter that has 
been annoying him for some time: that is, my 
engagement to Mr. Hall.” 


76 


THE GOLD BAG 


Apparently this was the answer the coroner had 
expected, for he nodded his head in a satisfied way. 

The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, 
and I realized that the acquaintances of the Craw- 
fords were well informed as to Miss Lloyd’s 
romance. 

‘‘He did not approve of that engagement?” 
went on the coroner, though he seemed to be stat- 
ing a fact, rather than asking a question. 

“ He did not,” returned Miss Lloyd, and her 
color rose as she observed the intense interest 
manifest among her hearers. 

“ And the subject was discussed at the dinner- 
table?” 

“ It was.” 

“ What was the tenor of the conversation ? ” 

“To the effect that I must break the engage- 
ment.” 

“ Which you refused to do ? ” 

“ I did.” 

Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined 
note had crept into her voice, and she looked at 
her betrothed husband with an air of affectionate 
pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man 
into the seventh heaven. But I noted Mr. Hall’s 
expression with surprise. Instead of gazing 
adoringly at this girl who was thus publicly proving 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


77 


her devotion to him, he sat with eyes cast down, 
and frowning — positively frowning — while his 
fingers played nervously with his watch-chain. 

Surely this case required my closest attention, 
for I place far more confidence in deductions from 
facial expression and tones of the voice, than from 
the discovery of small, inanimate objects. 

And if I chose to deduce from facial expressions 
I had ample scope in the countenances of these two 
people. 

I was particularly anxious not to jump at an 
unwarrantable conclusion, but the conviction was 
forced upon me then and there that these two 
people knew more about the crime than they ex- 
pected to tell. I certainly did not suspect either 
of them to be touched with guilt, but I was equally 
sure that they were not ingenuous in their 
testimony. 

While I knew that they were engaged, having 
heard it from both of them, I could not think that 
the course of their love affair was running smoothly. 
I found myself drifting into idle speculation as to 
whether this engagement was more desired by one 
than the other, and if so, by which. 

But though I could not quite understand these 
two, it gave me no trouble to know which I admired 
more. At the moment, Miss Lloyd seemed to me 


78 


THE GOLD BAG 


to represent all that was beautiful, noble and 
charming in womanhood, while Gregory Hall gave 
me the impression of a man crafty, selfish and 
undependable. However, I fully realized that I 
was theorizing without sufficient data, and deter- 
minedly I brought my attention back to the 
coroner’s catalogue of questions. 

Who else heard this conversation, besides 
yourself, Miss Lloyd? ” 

“ Mrs. Pierce was at the table with us, and 
the butler was in the room much of the time.” 

The purport of the coroner’s question was 
obvious. Plainly he meant that she might as well 
tell the truth in the matter, as her testimony could 
easily be overthrown or corroborated. 

Miss Lloyd deliberately looked at the two per- 
sons mentioned. Mrs. Pierce was trembling as 
with nervous apprehension, but she looked steadily 
at Miss Lloyd, with eyes full of loyalty and 
devotion. 

And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. 
If I could read her face aright, it bore the ex- 
pression of one who would stand by her friend 
whatever might come. If she herself had had 
doubts of Florence Lloyd’s integrity, but was de- 
termined to suppress them and swear to a belief 
in ker, she would look just as she did now. 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


79 


On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who 
stood with folded arms, gazed straight ahead with 
an inscrutable countenance, but his set lips and 
square jaw betokened decision. 

As I read it. Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, 
that should she tell an untruth about that talk at 
the dinner-table, Mrs. Pierce would repeat and 
corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute 
her, and would state veraciously what his master 
had said. Clearly, it was useless to attempt a false 
report, and, with a little sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed 
to resign herself to her fate, and calmly awaited 
the coroner’s further questions. 

But though still calm, she had lost her poise 
to some degree. The lack of responsive glances 
from Gregory Hall’s eyes seemed to perplex her. 
The eager interest of the six jurymen made her 
restless and embarrassed. The coronePs abrupt 
questions frightened her, and I feared her self- 
enforced calm must sooner or later give way. 

And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was 
again darting those uncontrollable glances toward 
her. And as the agitated Frenchman endeavored 
to control his own countenance, I chanced to ob- 
serve that the pretty-faced maid I had noticed be- 
fore, was staring fixedly at Louis. Surely there 
were wheels within wheels, and the complications 


80 


THE GOLD BAG 


of this matter were not to be solved by the simple 
questions of the coroner. But of course this pre- 
liminary examination was necessary, and it was 
from this that I must learn the main story, and 
endeavor to find out the secrets afterward. 

“ What was your uncle’s response when you 
refused to break your engagement to Mr. Hall ? ” 
was the next inquiiy. 

Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, 
while she directed her gaze successively at several 
individuals. This time she favored Mr. Randolph, 
who was Mr. Crawford’s lawyer, and Philip Craw- 
ford, the dead man’s brother. After looking in 
turn at these two, and glancing for a moment at 
Philip Crawford’s son, who sat by his side, she 
said, in a lower voice than she had before used: 

‘‘ He said he would change his will, and leave 
none of his fortune to me.” 

“ His will, then, has been made in your favor? ” 

‘‘Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole 
heiress to his estate, except for some comparatively 
small bequests.” 

“ Did he ever threaten this proceeding before ? ” 

“ He had hinted it, but not so definitely.” 

“ Did Mr. Hall know of Mr. Craw'ford’s ob- 
jection to his suit?” 

“ He did.” 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


81 


Did he know of your uncle’s hints of dis- 
inheritance ? ” 

‘‘ He did.” 

“What was his attitude in the matter?” 

Florence Lloyd looked proudly at her lover. 

“ The same as mine,” she said. “ We both 
regretted my uncle’s protest, but we had no in- 
tention of letting it stand in the way of our 
happiness.” 

Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee. 
He sat motionless, preoccupied, and seemingly lost 
in deep thought, oblivious to all that was going on. 

Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the 
time of the murder made him feel that he was in 
no way implicated, and so the inquiry held no 
interest for him ; or whether he was looking ahead 
and wondering whither these vital questions were 
leading Florence Lloyd, I had no means of know- 
ing. Certainly, he was a man of most impassive 
demeanor and marvellous self-control. 

“ Then, in effect, you defied your uncle ? 

“ In effect, I suppose I did ; but not in so many 
words. I always tried to urge him to see the matter 
in a different light.” 

“ What was his objection to Mr. Hall as your 
husband ? ” 

“ Must I answer that ? ” 

6 


THE GOLD BAG 


8£ 


^‘Yes; I think so; as I must have a clear 
understanding of the whole affair/' 

‘‘ Well, then, he told me that he had no objec- 
tion to Mr. Hall, personally. But he wished me 
to make w^hat he called a more brilliant alliance. 
He wanted me to marry a man of greater wealth 
and social position." 

The scorn in Miss Lloyd’s voice for her uncle’s 
ambitions was so unmistakable that it made her 
w^hole answer seem a compliment to Mr. Hall, 
rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling 
worth of the young secretary was far more to be 
desired than the riches and rank advocated by her 
uncle. This time Gregory Hall looked at the 
speaker with a faint smile, that showed apprecia- 
tion, if not adoration. 

But I did not gather from his attitude that he 
did not adore his beautiful bride-to-be; I only 
concluded that he was not one to show his feelings 
in public. 

However, I couldn’t help feeling that I had 
learned which of the two was more anxious for the 
engagement to continue. 

“ In what way was your uncle more definite in 
his threat last night, than he had been heretofore ? " 
the coroner continued. 

Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


83 


she had been dreading had come at last. She 
looked at the inexorable face of the butler, she 
looked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half- 
timid glance at Hall, as she answered: 

He said that unless I promised to give up 
Mr. Hall, he would go last night to Mr. Randolph’s 
and have a new will drawn up.” 

“ Did he do so? ” exclaimed Gregory Hall, an 
expression almost of fear appearing on his com- 
monplace face. 

Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. 
Apparently his sudden question had surprised her. 

Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall’s 
remark, but said to Miss Lloyd, He had made 
such threats before, had he not?” 

Yes, but not with the same determination. 
He told me in so many words, I must choose be- 
tween Mr. Hall or the inheritance of his fortune.” 

And your answer to this ? ” 

** I made no direct answer. I had told him 
many times that I had no intention of breaking my 
engagement, whatever course he might choose to 
pursue.” 

Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the 
turn things were taking. He already scented a 
sensation, and he scribbled industriously in his 
rapidly filling note-book. 


'84 


THE GOLD BAG 


This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the 
jurors on this preliminary inquest could come to 
their conclusions without a detailed account of all 
these conversations. 

I also resented the looks of admiration which 
Mr. Orville cast at the beautiful girl. It seemed 
to me that with the exception of Mr. Hamilton 
and Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the 
jurors should have maintained a formal and im- 
personal attitude. 

Mr. Hamilton spoke directly to Miss Lloyd on 
the subject. 

I am greatly surprised,” he said, ‘‘ that Mr. 
Crawford should take such a stand. He has often 
spoken to me of you as his heiress, and to my 
knowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of 
immediately recent date.” 

No,” said Miss Lloyd, ‘‘ but it is only re- 
cently that my uncle expressed his disapprobation 
so strongly; and last night at dinner was the first 
time he positively stated his intention in regard 
to his will.” 

At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter con- 
versed together in indignant whispers, and it was 
quite evident that they did not approve of Mr. 
Crawford’s treatment of his niece. 

Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


85 


also dismayed, which surprised me, as I had under- 
stood that had it not been for Miss Lloyd, he 
himself would have been his brother’s heir. 

Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, non- 
committal expression, and Gregory Hall, too, 
looked absolutely impassive. 

The coroner grew more alert, as if he had 
discovered something of definite import, and asked 
eagerly : 

“ Did he do so ? Did he go to his lawyer’s 
and make another will?” 

Miss Lloyd’s cold calm had returned, and 
seemed to rebuke the coroner’s excited interest. 

I do not know',” she replied. He went out 
after dinner, as I have told you, but I retired to 
my bedroom before he came home.” 

“ And you did not come down-stairs again last 
night?” 

I did not.” 

The words were spoken in a clear, even tone, 
but something made me doubt their truth. It was 
not the voice or inflection; there was no hesitation 
or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop 
of Miss Lloyd’s eyelids seemed to me to give the 
lie to her words. 

I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same 
thought, for he slowly raised his own eyes and 


86 


THE GOLD BAG 


looked at her steadily for the first time since her 
testimony began. 

She did not look at him. Instead, she was 
staring at the butler. Either she had reason to 
fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. With an 
endeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, 
I chanced to look at Parmalee. To my disgust, 
he was quite evidently gloating over the disclosures 
being made by the witness. I felt my anger rise, 
and I determined then and there that if suspicion 
of guilt or complicity should by any chance un- 
justly light on that brave and lovely girl, I would 
make the effort of my life to clear her from it. 

You did not come down again,”’ the coroner 
went on pointedly, ‘‘ to ask your uncle if he had 
changed his will ? ” 

No, I did not,” she replied, with such a 
ring of truth in her scornful voice, that my con- 
fidence returned, and I truly believed her. 

“ Then you were not in your uncle’s office last 
evening at all ? ” 

“ I was not.” 

“ Nor through the day? ” 

She reflected a moment. “ No, nor through 
the day. It chanced I had no occasion to go in 
there yesterday at all.” 

At these assertions of Miss Lloyd’s, the French- 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


87 


man, Louis, looked greatly disturbed. He tried 
very hard to conceal his agitation, but it was not 
at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to 
look undisturbed at what he heard. 

I hadn’t a doubt, myself, that the man either 
knew something that would incriminate Miss Lloyd, 
or that they two had a mutual knowledge of some 
fact as yet concealed. 

I was surprised that no one else seemed to 
notice this, but the attention of every one in the 
room was concentrated on the coroner and the 
witness, and so Louis’s behavior passed unnoticed. 

At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with 
some dignity. 

It would seem,” he said, “ that this concludes 
Miss Lloyd’s evidence in the matter. She has 
carried the narrative up to the point where Mr. 
Joseph Crawford went out of his house after 
dinner. As she herself retired to her room before 
his return, and did not again leave her room until 
this morning, she can have nothing further to tell 
us bearing on the tragjedy. And as it is doubtless 
a most painful experience for her, I trust, Mr. 
Coroner, that you will excuse her from further 
questioning.” 

But wait a minute,” Parmalee began, when 
Mr Hamilton interrupted him — ” Mr. Porter is 


88 


THE GOLD BAG 


quite right,” he said; there is no reason why 
Miss Lloyd should be further troubled in this mat- 
ter. I feel free to advise her dismissal from the 
witness stand, because of my acquaintance and 
friendship with this household. Our coroner and 
most of our jurors are strangers to Miss Lloyd, 
and perhaps cannot appreciate as I do the terrible 
strain this experience means to her.” 

You’re right Hamilton,” said Mr. Philip 
Crawford; I was remiss not to think of it myself. 
Mr. Monroe, this is not a formal inquest, and in 
the interest of kindness and humanity, I ask you 
to excuse Miss Lloyd from further questioning for 
the present.” 

I was surprised at the requests of these elderly 
gentlemen, for though it seemed to me that Miss 
Lloyd’s testimony was complete, yet it also seemed 
as if Gregory Hall were the one to show anxiety 
that she be spared further annoyance. 

However, Florence Lloyd spoke for herself. 

“ I am quite willing to answer any further 
questions,” she said ; I have answered all you 
have asked, and I have told you frankly the truth. 
Though it is far from pleasant to have my in- 
dividual affairs thus brought to notice, I am quite 
ready to do anything to forward the cause of justice 


FLORENCE LLOYD 


89 ^ 


or to aid in any way the discovery of my uncle’s 
murderer.” 

“ Thank you,” said Mr. Monroe; I quite ap- 
preciate the extreme unpleasantness of your posi- 
tion. But, Miss Lloyd, there are a few more 
questions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat 
myself, but I ask you once more if you did not 
come down to your uncle’s office last evening- after 
he had returned from his call on Mr. Randolph.” 

As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her 
eyes did not turn toward the coroner, or toward 
her fiance, or toward the jury, but she looked 
straight at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear 
tones : 

I did not.” 


VI 


THE GOLD BAG 

Is this yours ? ” asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly 
whisking into sight the gold-mesh bag. 

Probably his intent had been to startle her, 
and thus catch her off her guard. If so, he suc- 
ceeded, for the girl was certainly startled, if only 
at the- suddenness of the query. 

N — ^no,'* she stammered ; iPs — iPs not 

mine.'* 

‘‘ Are you sure? " the coroner went on, a little 
more gently, doubtless moved by her agitation. 

“ Pm — Pm quite sure. Where did you find 
it?" 

‘‘ What size gloves do you wear, Miss 
Lloyd? " 

Number six." She said this mechanically, as 
if thinking of something else, and her face was 
white. 

“ These are number six," said the coroner, as he 
took a pair of gloves from the bag. Think again. 
Miss Lloyd. Do you not own a gold-chain bag, 
such as this ? " 


90 


THE GOLD BAG 


91 


I have one something like that — or, rather, I 
did have one.” 

‘‘ Ah! And what did you do with it? ” 

“ I gave it to my maid, Elsa, some days ago.” 

‘‘ Why did you do that ? ” 

Because I was tired of it, and as it was a 
trifle worn, I had ceased to care to carry it.” 

‘‘Is it not a somewhat expensive trinket to turn 
over to your maid ? ” 

“ No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean 
mine was not. It was gilt over silver, and cost 
only about twelve or fourteen dollars when new.” 

“ What did you usually carry in it ? ” 

“ What every woman carries in such a bag. 
Handkerchief, some small change, perhaps a vanity- 
box, gloves, tickets — whatever would be needed on 
an afternoon’s calling or shopping tour.” 

“ Miss Lloyd, you have enumerated almost 
exactly the articles in this bag.” 

“ Then that is a coincidence, for it is not my 
bag.” 

The girl was entirely self-possessed again, and 
even a little aggressive. 

I admit that I did not believe her statements. 
Of course I could not be sure she was telling un- 
truths, but her sudden embarrassment at the first 
sight of the bag, and the way in which she regained 


92 


THE GOLD BAG 


her self-possession, made me doubt her clear con- 
science in the matter. 

Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside 
me, whispered : “ Striking' coincidence, isn't it ? " 

Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, 
yet it irritated me horribly to hear him say it. 

But ninety-nine women out of a hundred 
would experience the same coincidence," I returned. 

But the other ninety-eight weren’t in the 
house last night, and she was." 

At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had 
suspected of feeling far deeper interest than she 
had so far shown, volunteered a remark. 

'' Of course that isn’t Florence’s bag," she said; 
if Florence had gone to her uncle’s office last 
evening, she would have been wearing her dinner 
gown, and certainly would not carry a street bag." 

''Is this a street bag?" inquired Mr. Monroe, 
looking with a masculine helplessness at the gilt 
bauble. 

" Of course it is," said Mrs. Pierce, who now 
that she had found her voice, seemed anxious to 
talk. “ Nobody ever carries a bag like that in 
the house, — in the evening." 

" But," began Parmalee, " such a thing might 
have occurred, if Miss L'oyd had had occasion to 


THE GOLD BAG 


93 


go to her uncle’s office with, we will say, papers 
or notes.” 

Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, 
but Mr. Monroe seemed to take it seriously. 

That might be,” he said, and I could see that 
momentarily the suspicions against Florence Lloyd 
w^ere growing in force and were taking definite 
shape. 

As I noted the expressions on the various faces, 
I observed that only Mr. Philip Crawford and the 
jurors Hamilton and Porter seemed entirely in 
sympathy with the girl. The coroner, Parmalee, and 
even the lawyer, Randolph, seemed to be willing, 
almost eager for her to incriminate herself. 

Gregory Hall, who should have been the most 
sympathetic of all, seemed the most coldly in- 
different, and as for Mrs. Pierce, her actions were 
so erratic and uncertain, no one could tell what 
she thought. 

You are quite positive it is not your bag? ” 
repeated the coroner once more. 

‘‘ I’m positive it is not mine,” returned Miss 
Lloyd, without undue emphasis, but with an air 
of dismissing the subject. 

Is your maid present ? ” asked the coroner. 
“ Let her be summoned.” 

Elsa came forward, {^the pretty, timid young 


94 


THE GOLD BAG 


girl, of German effects, whom I had already 
noticed. 

Have you ever seen this bag before? ** asked 
the coroner, holding it up before her. 

Yes, sir.” 

‘‘When?” 

“ This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to 
me, sir. He said he found it in Mr. Crawford’s 
office.” 

The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. 
She seemed afraid of the coroner, of Lambert, of 
Miss Lloyd, and of the jury. It might have been 
merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, 
but it had the appearance of some more definite 
apprehension. 

Especially did she seem afraid of the man, 
Louis. Though perhaps the distressed glances she 
cast at him were not so much those of fear as of 
anxiety. 

The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really 
seemed to take more notice of her embarrassment, 
and make more effort to put her at her ease than 
he had done with Miss Lloyd. 

“ Is it Miss Lloyd’s bag? ” 

“ I don’t think so, sir.” 

“ Don’t you know? As her personal maid, yow 
must be acquainted with her belongings.” 


THE GOLD BAG 


95 


“ Yes, sir. No, it isn’t hers, sir.’' 

But as this statement was made after a swift 
but noticeable glance of inquiry at her mistress, a 
slight distrust of Elsa formed in my own mind, and 
probably in the minds of others. 

She has one like this, has she not? ” 

She — she did have, sir ; but she — ^she gave it 
to me.” 

“ Yes? Then go and get it and let us see it.” 

I haven’t it now, sir. I — I gave it away.” 

Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you 
get it back ? ” 

No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed 
for Germany last week.” 

Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that 
look of surprise told against her. I could see 
Parmalee’s eyes gleam as he concluded in his own 
mind that the bag story was all false, was made 
up between mistress and maid, and that the part 
about the departing cousin was an artistic touch 
added by Elsa. 

The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve 
the present witness, and he sat thoughtfully snap- 
ping the catch of the bag. 

He turned again to Miss Lloyd. ** Having 
given away your own bag,” he said suavely, '' you 


96 


THE GOLD BAG 


have perhaps provided yourself with another, have 
you not ? 

“ Why, no, I haven’t,” said Florence Lloyd. 
“ I have been intending to do so, and shall get 
one shortly, but I haven’t yet selected it.” 

“ And in the meantime you have been getting 
along without any ? ” 

“ A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable 
article; I have several bags of other styles, and I’m 
in no especial haste to purchase a new one.” 

Miss Lloyd’s manner had taken on several de- 
grees of hauteur, and her voice was incisive- in 
its tone. Clearly she resented this discussion of 
her personal belongings, and as she entirely re- 
pudiated the ownership of the bag in the coroner’s 
possession, she was annoyed at his questions. 

Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily. 

“ If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd,” he said, 
with some asperity, how did it get on Mr. Craw- 
ford’s desk late last night? The butler has assured 
me it was not there when he looked in at a little 
after ten o’clock. Yet this morning it lay there, in 
plain sight on the desk. Whose bag is it ? ” 

“ I have not the slightest idea,” said Miss Lloyd 
firmly ; “but, I repeat, it is not mine.” 

“ Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe’s 
questions,” said Parmalee in my ear. “If he can 


THE GOLD BAG 


97 


prove this bag to be Miss Lloyd’s, it shows that 
she was in the office after ten o’clock last night, and 
this she has denied.” 

Don’t you believe her ? ” said 1. 

“ Indeed I don’t. Of course she was there, and 
of course it’s her bag. She put that pretty maid of 
hers up to deny it, but any one could see the maid 
was lying, also.” 

‘‘ Oh, come now, Parmalee, that’s too bad ! 
You’ve no right to say such things! ” 

Oh, pshaw I you think the same yourself, only 
you think it isn’t chivalrous to put it into words.” 

Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee’s 
speech was its inherent truth. I didn’t belieye 
Florence Lloyd. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t; 
for the appearance, manner and words of both 
women were not such as to inspire belief in their 
hearers. 

If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her 
ownership of the bag, it would be hard to prove 
the contrary, for the men-servants could not be 
supposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce 
would testify as Miss Lloyd did on any matter. 

I was sorry not to put more confidence in the 
truth of the testimony I was hearing, but I am, 
perhaps, sceptical by nature. And, too, if Florence 
Lloyd were in any way implicated in the death of 
7 


98 


THE GOLD BAG 


her uncle, I felt pretty sure she would not hesitate 
at untruth. 

Her marvellous magnetism attracted me 
strongly, but it did not blind nxe to the strength 
of her nature. While I could not, as yet, believe 
her in any way implicated in the death of her 
uncle, I was fully convinced she knew more 
concerning it than she had told and I knew, 
unless forced to, she would not tell what she de- 
sired to keep secret. 

My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my 
duty was plain. As a detective, I must investi- 
gate fairly, or give up the case. 

At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was 
the presence of Miss Lloyd in the office last night, 
and the two yellow rose petals I had picked up on 
the floor might prove a clue. 

At any rate it was my duty to investigate the 
point, so taking a card from my pocket I wrote 
upon it : “ Find out if Miss Lloyd wore any flowers 
last evening, and what kind.'’ 

I passed this over to Mr. Monroe, and rather 
enjoyed seeing his mystification as he read it. 

To my suq^rise he did not question Florence 
Lloyd immediately, but turned again to the maid. 

‘‘ At what time did your mistress go to her 
room last evening? " 


THE GOLD BAG 


99 


“ At about ten o’clock, sir. I was waiting there 
for her, and so I am sure.” 

“ Did she at once retire ? ” 

“ No, sir. She changed her evening gown for 
a tea-gown, and then said she would sit up for an 
hour or so and write letters, and I needn’t wait.” 

You left her then? ” 

‘‘ Yes, sir.” 

“ Did Miss Lloyd wear any flowers at dinner 
last evening? ” 

“ No, sir. There were no guests — only the 
family.” 

“ Ah, quite so. But did she, by chance, pin 
on any flowers after she w^ent to her room ? ” 

“ Why, yes, sir ; she did. A box of roses had 
come for her by a messenger, and when she found 
them in her room, she pinned one on the lace of 
her tea-gown.” 

'‘Yes? And what time did the flowers arrive? ” 

“ While Miss Lloyd was at dinner, sir. I took 
them from the box and put them in water, sir.” 

"And what sort of flowers were they?” 

" Yellow roses, sir.” 

" That will do, Elsa, You are excused.” 

The girl looked bewildered, and a little em- 
barrassed as she returned to her place among the 
other servants, and Miss Lloyd looked a little be- 
wildered also. 


100 


THE GOLD BAG 


But then, for that matter, no body understood 
the reason for the questions about the flowers, and 
though most of the jury merely looked preter- 
naturally wise on the subject, Mr. Orville scribbled 
it all down in his little book. I was now glad to 
see the man keep up his indefatigable note-taking. 
If the reporters or stenographers missed any points, 
I could surely get them from him. 

But from the industry with which he wrote, I 
began to think he must be composing an elaborate 
thesis on yellow roses and their habits. 

Mr. Porter, looking greatly puzzled, observed 
to the coroner, ** I have listened to your inquiries 
with interest; and I would like to know what, if 
any, special importance is attached to this subject 
of yellow roses.” 

Pm not able to tell you,” replied Mr. Monroe. 

I asked these questions at the instigation of 
another, who doubtless has some good reason for 
them, which he will explain in due time.” 

Mr. Porter seemed satisfied with this, and I 
nodded my head at the coroner, as if bidding him 
to proceed. 

But if I had been surprised before at the all but 
spoken intelligence which passed between the two 
servants, Elsa and Louis, I was more amazed now. 
They shot rapid glances at each other, which were 
evidently full of meaning to themselves. Elsa was 


THE GOLD BAG 


101 


deathly white, her lips trembled, and she looked at 
the Frenchman as if in terror of her life. But 
though he glanced at her meaningly, now and then, 
Louis’s anxiety seemed to me to be more for 
Florence Lloyd than for her maid. 

But now the coroner was talking very gravely 
to Miss Lloyd. 

Do you corroborate,” he was saying, “ the 
statements of your maid about the flowers that 
were sent you last evening ? ” 

‘‘ I do,” she replied. 

“ From whom did they come? ” 

‘‘ From Mr. Hall.” 

‘‘ Mr. Hall,” said the coroner, turning toward 
the young man, how could you send flowers to 
Miss Lloyd last evening if you were in New York 
City?” 

Easily,” was the cool reply. ** I left Sedg- 
wick on the six o’clock train. On my way to the 
station I stopped at a florist’s and ordered some 
roses sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive 
until she was at dinner, they were not sent im- 
mediately, as the florist promised.” 

“ When did you receive them. Miss Lloyd ? ” 

They were in my room when I went up 
there at about ten o’clock last evening,” she replied, 
and her face showed her wonderment at these ex- 
plicit questions. 


102 


THE GOLD BAG 


The coroner’s face showed almost as much 
wonderment, and I said : “ Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I 
may ask a few questions right here.’' 

Certainly,” he replied. 

And thus it was, for the first time in my life, 
I directly addressed Florence Lloyd. 

“ When you went up to your room at ten 
o’clock, the flowers were there?” I asked, and I 
felt a most uncomfortable pounding at my heart 
because of the trap I was deliberately laying for 
her. But it had to be done, and even as I spoke, 
I experienced a glad realization, that if she were 
innocent, my questions could do her no harm. 

'' Yes,” she repeated, and for the first time 
favored me with a look of interest. I doubt if she 
knew my name or scarcely knew why I was there. 

“ And you pinned one on your gown ? ” 

I tucked it in among the laces at my throat, 

yes.” 

“ Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you 
did not go down-stairs again, to your uncle’s 
office?” 

I did not,” she repeated, but she turned wLite, 
and her voice was scarce more than a whisper. 

‘‘ Then,” said I, ‘‘ how did two petals of a yel- 
low rose happen to be on the floor in the office this 
morning? ” 


VII 


YELLOW ROSES 

If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint 
or collapse at this crisis he must have been disap- 
pointed, and as I had confidently expected such a 
scene, I was completely surprised at her quick 
recovery of self-possession. 

For an instant she had seemed stunned by my 
question, and her eyes had wandered vaguely round 
the room, as if in a vain search for help. 

Her glance returned to me, and in that instant 
I gave her an answering look, which, quite in- 
voluntarily on my part, meant a grave and serious 
offer of my best and bravest efforts in her behalf. 
Disingenuous she might be, untruthful she might 
be, yes, even a criminal she might be, but in any 
case I was her sworn ally forever. Not that I 
meant to defeat the ends of justice, but I was 
ready to fight for her or with her, until justice 
should defeat us. Of course she didn't know all 
this, though I couldn't help hoping she read a little 
of it as my tyes looked into hers. If so, slie 
recognized it only by a swift withdrawal of her 

103 


104 


THE GOLD BAG 


own glance. Again she looked round at her various 
friends. 

Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, 
though he gave her no responsive glance, for some 
reason her poise returned like a flash. It was as 
if she had been invigorated by a cold douche. 

Determination fairly shone in her dark eyes, 
and her mouth showed a more decided line than 
I had yet seen in its red curves, as with a cold, 
almost hard voice she replied: 

“ I have no idea. We have many flowers in 
the house, always.'' 

“ But I have learned from the servants that 
there were no other yellow roses in the house 
yesterday." 

Miss Lloyd was not hesitant now. She replied 
quickly, and it was with an almost eager haste 
that she said : 

“ Then I can only imagine that my uncle had 
some lady visitor in his office late last evening." 

The girl's mood had changed utterly; her tone 
was almost flippant, and more than one of the 
jurors looked at her in wonderment. 

Mr. Porter, especially, cast on her a glance of 
fatherly solicitude, and I was sure that he felt, as 
I did, that the strain was becoming too much for 
her. 


YELLOW ROSES 


105 


“ I don’t think you quite mean that, Florence,” 
he said ; “ you and I knew your uncle too well to 
say such things.” 

But the girl made no reply, and her beautiful 
mouth took on a hard line. 

“ It is not an impossible conjecture,” said 
Philip Crawford thoughtfully. ‘‘ If the bag does 
not belong to Florence, what more probable than 
that it was left by its feminine owner? The same 
lady might have worn or carried yellow roses.” 

Perhaps it was because of my own desire to 
help her that these other men had joined their 
efforts to mine to ease the way as much as possible. 

The coroner looked a little uncomfortable, for 
he began to note the tide of sympathy turning 
toward the troubled girl. 

Yellow roses do not necessarily imply a lady 
visitor,” he said, rather more kindly. ‘‘ A man in 
evening dress might have worn one.” 

To his evident surprise, as well as to my own, 
this remark, intended to be soothing, had quite the 
opposite effect. 

That is not at all probable,” said Miss Lloyd 
quite angrily. Mr. Porter was in the office last 
evening; if he was wearing a yellow rose at the 
time, let him say so.” 

“ I was not,” said Mr. Porter quietly, but 


106 


THE GOLD BAG 


looking amazed at the sudden outbur^ of the girl. 

Of course you weren’t ! ” Miss Lloyd went 
on, still in the same excited way. ‘‘ Men don’t 
wear roses nowadays, except perhaps at a ball ; and, 
any way, tlie gold bag surely implies that a woman 
was there ! ” 

“It seems to,” said Mr. Monroe ; and then, 
unable longer to keep up her brave resistance, 
Florence Lloyd fainted. 

Mrs. Pierce wrung her hands and moaned in 
a helpless fashion. Elsa started forward to attend 
her young mistress, but it was the two neighbors 
who were jurors, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, 
who carried the unconscious girl from the room. 

Gregory Hall looked concerned, but made no 
movement to aid, and I marvelled afresh at such 
strange actions in a man betrothed to a particu- 
larly beautiful woman. 

Several women in the audience hurried from 
the room, and in a few moments the two jurors 
retunied. 

“ Miss Lloyd will soon be all right, I think,” 
said Mr. Porter to the coroner. “ My wife is 
with her, and one or two other ladies. I think we 
may proceed with our work here.” 

Tliere was something about Mr. Lemuel Porter 
that made men accept his dictum, and without fur- 


YELLOW ROSES 


107 


ther remark Mr. Monroe called the next witness, 
Mr. Roswell Randolph, and a tall man, with an 
intellectual face, came forward. 

While the coroner was putting the formal and 
preliminaiy questions to Mr. Randolph, Parmalee 
quietly drew my attention to a whispered conver- 
sation going on between Elsa and Louis. 

If this girl had fainted instead of Miss Lloyd, 
I should not have been surprised for she seemed 
on the very verge of nervous collapse. She seemed, 
too, to be accusing the man of something, which 
he vigorously denied. The girl interested me far 
more than the Frenchman. Though of the simple, 
rosy-cheeked type of German, she had an air of 
canniness and subtlety that was at variance with 
her naive effect. I soon concluded she was far 
more clever than most people thought, and 
Parmalee’s whispered words showed that he 
thought so too. 

“ Something doing in the case of Dutch Elsa, 
eh?” he said; “she and Johnny Frenchy have 
cooked up something between them.” 

“ Nothing of any importance, I fancy,” I re- 
turned, for Miss Lloyd’s swoon seemed to me a 
surrender, and I had little hope now of any other 
direction in which to look. 


108 


THE GOLD BAG 


But I resumed my attention to the coroner’s 
inquiries of Mr. Randolph. 

In answer to a few formal questions, he stated 
that he had been Mr. Crawford’s legal adviser for 
many years, and had entire charge of all such 
matters as required legal attention. 

“ Did you draw up the late Mr. Crawford’s 
will ? ” asked the coroner. 

“Yes; after the death of his wife — about 
twelve years ago.” 

“And what were the terms of that will?” 

“ Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of 
his fortune was bequeathed to Miss Florence 
Lloyd.” 

“ Have you changed that will in any way, or 
drawn a later one ? ” 

“ No.” 

It was by the merest chance that I was looking 
at Gregory Hall, as the lawyer gave this answer. 

It required no fine perception to understand the 
look of relief and delight that fairly flooded his 
countenance. To be sure, it was quickly suppressed, 
and his former mask of indifference and pre- 
occupation assumed, but I knew as well as if he 
had put it into words, that he had trembled lest 
Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before her uncle 
had met his death in the night. 


YELLOW ROSES 


109 


This gave me many new thoughts, but before 
I could formulate them, I heard the coroner going 
on with his questions. 

‘‘Did Mr. Crawford visit you last evening?” 

“Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half 
an hour or more between eight and nine o’clock.” 

“ Did he refer to the subject of changing his 
will?” 

“ He did. That was his errand. He distinctly 
stated his intention of making a new will, and asked 
me to come to his office this morning and draw up 
the instrument.” 

“ But as that cannot now be done, the will in 
favor of Miss Lloyd still stands? ” 

“ It does,” said Mr. Randolph, “ and I am 
glad of it. Miss Lloyd has been brought up to 
look upon this inheritance as her own, and while 
I would have used no undue emphasis, I should 
have tried to dissuade Mr. Crawford from chang- 
ing his will.” 

“ But before we consider the fortune or the 
will, we must proceed with our task of bringing 
to light the murderer, and avenging Mr. Craw- 
ford’s death.” 

“ I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and 
that speedily. But I may say, if allowable, that 


110 


THE GOLD BAG 


you are on the wrong track when you allow your 
suspicions to tend towards Florence Lloyd." 

“ As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course 
that sentiment has some weight, but*as a man of 
law, yourself, you must know that such an opinion 
must be proved before it can be really conclusive." 

'' Yes, of course," said Mr. Randolph, with a 
deep sigh. “ But let me beg of you to look further 
in search of other indications before you press 
too hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues 
you now have." 

I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it 
seemed to me that the men of West Sedgwick 
were of a fine class as to both intellect and judg- 
ment, and though Coroner Monroe was not a 
brilliant man, I began to realize that he had some 
sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair 
in his decisions. 

As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man 
free from a great anxiety. Though still calm and 
reserved in appearance, he was less nervous, and 
quietly awaited further developments. Flis attitude 
was not hard to understand. Mr. Crawford had 
objected to his secretary’s engagement to his niece, 
and now Mr. Crawford’s objections could no longer 
matter. Again, it was not surprising that Mr. 
Hall should be glad to learn that his fiancee was 


YELLOW ROSES 


111 


the heiress she had supposed herself to be. Even 
though he were marrying the girl simply for love 
of her, a large fortune in addition was by no means 
to be despised. At any rate, I concluded that 
Gregoi-y Hall thought so. 

As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. 

A fortune-hunter,” he murmured, with a mean- 
ing glance at Hall. 

I remembei'ed that Mr. Carstairs at the inn 
had said the same thing, and I thoroughly believed 
it myself. 

'' Has he any means of his own? ” 

No,” said Parmalee, “ except his salary, which 
was a good one from Mr. Crawford, but of course 
he’s lost that now.” 

I don’t feel drawn toward him. I suppose 
one would call him a gentleman and yet he isn’t 
manly.” 

‘'He’s a cad,” declared Parmalee; “any fort- 
une-hunter is a cad, and I despise him.” 

Although I tried to hold my mind impartially 
open regarding Mr. Hall, I was conscious of an 
inclination to despise him myself. But I was also 
honest enough to realize that my principal reason 
for despising him was because he had won the hand 
of Florence Lloyd. 

I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh. 


THE GOLD BAG 


, 112 

Clearly, the man was becoming- more and more 
apprehensive, and really dreaded to. go on with 
the proceedings, because he was fearful of what 
might be disclosed thereby. 

The gold bag still lay on the table before him; 
the yellow rose petals were not yet satisfactorily 
accounted for; Miss Lloyd’s agitation and sudden 
loss of consciousness, though not surprising in the 
circumstances, were a point in her disfavor. And 
now the revelation that Mr. Crawford was actually 
on the point of disinheriting his niece made it im- 
possible to ignore the obvious connection between 
that fact and the event of the night. 

But no one had put the thought into words, 
and none seemed inclined to. 

Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next 
witness on his list, and Mrs. Pierce answered. 

For some reason she chose to stand during her 
interview, and as she rose, I realized that she was 
a prim little personage, but of such a decided nature 
that she might have been stigmatized by the tenn 
stubborn. I had seen such women before; of a 
certain soft, outward effect, apparently pliable and 
amenable, but in reality, deep, shrewd and clever. 

And yet she was not strong, for the situation 
in which she found herself made her trembling and 
unstrung. 


YEIJ.OW ROSES 


113 


When asked by the coroner to tell her own story 
of the events of the evening before, she begged that 
he would question her instead. 

Desirous of making it as easy for her as pos- 
sible, Mr. Monroe acceded to her wishes, and put 
his questions in a kindly and conversational tone. 

You were at dinner last night, with Miss 
Lloyd and Mr. Crawford?” 

Yes,” was the almost inaudible reply, and 
Mrs. Pierce seemed about to brealc down at the 
sad recollection. 

You heard the argument between Mr, Craw- 
ford and his niece at the dinner table ? ” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“This resulted in high words on both sides? ” 
“ Well, I don’t know exactly what you mean 
by high words. Mr. Crawford rarely lost his 
temper and Florence never.” 

“ What then did Mr. Crawford say in regard 
to disinheriting Miss Lloyd?” 

“ Mr. Crawford said clearly, but without re- 
course to what may be called high words, that 
unless Florence would consent to break her engage- 
ment he would cut her off with a shilling.” 

“ Did he use that expression ? ” 

“ He did at first, when he was speaking more 
lightly; then when Florence refused to do as he 
8 


114 


THE GOLD BAG 


wished he said he would go that very evening to 
Mr. Randolph’s and have a new will made w'hich 
should disinherit Florence, except for a small 
annuity. 

'' And what did Miss Lloyd reply to this 
threat?” asked the coroner. 

“ She said,” replied Mrs. Pierce, in her plaintive 
tones, that her uncle might do as he chose about 
that; but she would never give up Mr. Hall.” 

At this moment Gregory Hall looked more 
manly than I had yet seen him. 

Though he modestly dropped his eyes at this 
tacit tribute to his worthiness, yet he squared his 
shoulders, and showed a justifiable pride in the 
love thus evinced for him. 

‘'Was the subject discussed further?” pursued 
the coroner. 

“ No; nothing more was said about it after 
that.” 

“ Will the making of a new will by Mr. Craw- 
ford affect yourself in any way, Mrs. Pierce?” 

“ No,” she replied, “ Mr. Crawford left me a 
small bequest in his earlier will and I had reason to 
think he would do the same in a^ later will, even 
though he changed his intentions regarding 
Florence.” 


YELLOW ROSES 


115 


“ Miss Lloyd thoroughly believed that he in- 
tended to carry out his threat last evening?” 

‘‘ She didn’t say so to me, but Mr. Crawford 
spoke so decidedly on the matter, that I think both 
she and I believed he was really going to carry 
out his threat at last.” 

When Mr. Crawford left the house, did you 
and Miss Lloyd know^ where he was going ? ” 
“We knew no more than he had said at the 
table. He said nothing when he went away.” 

“ How did you and Miss Lloyd spend the re- 
mainder of the evening? ” 

“ It was but a short evening. We sat in the 
music-room for a time, but at about ten o’clock 
we both went up to our rooms.” 

“ Had Mr. Crawford returned then ? ” 

“ Yes, he came in perhaps an hour earlier. We 
heard him come in at the front door, and go at 
once to his office.” 

“ You did not see him, or speak to him? ” 

“ We did not. He had a caller during the 
evening. It was Mr. Porter, I have since learned.” 

“ Did Miss Lloyd express no interest as to 
whether he had changed his will or not ? ” 

“ Miss Lloyd didn’t mention the will, or her 
engagement, to me at all. We talked entirely of 
other matters.” 


116 


THE GOLD BAG 


Was Miss Lloyd in her usual mood or 
spirits? ’’ 

'' She seemed a little quiet, but not at a 11 what 
you might call worried/' 

Was not tliis strange when she was fully ex- 
pecting to be deprived of her entire fortune ? ” 

It was not strange for Miss Lloyd. She rarely 
talks of her own affairs. We spent an evening 
similar in all respects to our usual evening when 
we do not have guests.” 

And you both went upstairs at ten. Was that 
unusually early for you ? ” 

“Well, unless we have guests, we often go at 
ten or half-past ten.” 

“ And did you see Miss Lloyd again that 
night?” 

“ Yes ; about half an hour later, I went to her 
room for a book I wanted.” 

“ Miss Lloyd had not retired ? ” 

“No; she asked me to sit down for awhile and 
chat.” 

“ Did you do so? ” 

“ Only for a few moments. I was interested 
in the book I had come for, and I wanted to take 
it away to my own room to read.” 

“ And Miss Lloyd, then, did not seem dispirited 
or in any way in an unusual mood ? ” 


YELLOW ROSES 


117 


“ Not that I noticed. I wasn’t quizzing her or 
looking into her eyes to see what her thoughts were, 
for it didn’t occur to me to do so. I knew her 
uncle had dealt her a severe blow, but as she 
didn’t open the subject, of course I couldn’t discuss 
it with her. But I did think perhaps she wanted 
to be by herself to consider the matter, and that 
was one reason why I didn’t stay and chat as she 
had asked me to.” 

“ Perhaps she really wanted to discuss the 
matter with you.” 

“ Perhaps she did ; but in that case she should 
have said so. Florence knows well enough that I 
am always ready to discuss or sympathize with her 
in any matter, but I never obtrude my opinions. So 
as she said nothing to lead me to think she wanted 
to talk to me especially, I said good-night to her.” 


vni 


FURTHER INQUIRY 

Did you happen to notice, Mrs. Pierce, 
whether Miss Lloyd was wearing a yellow rose 
when you saw her in her room ? ” 

Mrs. Pierce hesitated. She looked decidedly 
embarrassed, and seemed disinclined to answer. 
But she might have known that to hesitate and 
show' embarrassment was almost equivalent to an 
affirmative answer to the coroner’s question. At 
last she replied: 

'*1 don’t know; I didn’t notice.” 

This might have been a true statement, but I 
think no one in the room believed it. The coroner 
tried again. 

‘‘Try to think, Mrs. Pierce. It is important 
that we should know if Miss Lloyd was wearing 
a yellow rose.” 

“ Yes,” flared out Mrs. Pierce angrily, “ so 
that you can prove she went down to her uncle’s 
office later and dropped a piece of her rose there! 
But I tell you I don’t remember whether she was 
wearing a rose or not, and it wouldn’t matter if 
118 


FURTHER INQUIRY 


119 


she had on forty roses! If Florence Lloyd says 
she didn’t go down-stairs, she didn’t.” 

“ I think we all believe in Miss Lloyd’s 
veracity,” said Mr. Monroe, “ but it is necessary 
to discover where those rose petals in the library 
came from. You saw the flowers in her room, 
Mrs. Pierce?” 

Yes, I believe I did. But I paid no attention 
to them, as Florence nearly always has flowers in 
her room.” 

“ Would you have heard Miss Lloyd if she 
had gone down-stairs after you left her?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Mrs. Pierce, doubtfully. 

Is your room next to hers ? ” 

No, not next.” 

‘‘ Is it on the same corridor ? ” 

“ No.” 

‘‘Around a corner?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And at some distance ? ” 

“ Yes.” Mrs. Pierce’s answers became more 
hesitating as she saw the drift of Mr. Monroe’s 
questions. Clearly, she was trying to shield 
Florence, if necessary, at the expense of actual 
truthfulness. 

“ Then,” went on Mr. Monroe, inexorably, “ I 
understand you to say that you think you would 


120 


THE GOLD BAG 


have heard Miss Lloyd, had she gone down-stairs, 
although your room is at a distance and around a 
comer and the hall and stairs are thickly carpeted. 
Unless you were listening especially, Mrs. Pierce, I 
think you would scarcely have heard her descend.^’ 
Well, as she didn’t go down, of course I 
didn’t hear her,” snapped Mrs. Pierce, with the 
feminine way of settling an argument by an un- 
provable statement. 

Mr. Monroe began on another tack. 

“ When you went to Miss Lloyd’s room,” he 
said, “ was the maid, Elsa, there ? ” 

“ Miss Lloyd had just dismissed her for the 
night.” 

What was Miss Lloyd doing when you went 
to her room ? ” 

“ She was looking over some gowns that she 
proposed sending to the cleaner’s.” 

The coroner fairly jumped. He remembered 
the newspaper clipping of a cleaner’s advertise- 
ment, which was even now in the gold bag before 
him. Though all the jurors had seen it, it had not 
been referred to in the presence of the women. 

Recovering himself at once, he said quietly: 

Was not that rather work for Miss Lloyd’s 
maid? ” 

“ Oh, Elsa would pack and send them, of 


FURTHER INQUIRY 


121 


course/* said Mrs. Pierce carelessly. “ Miss Lloyd 
,was merely deciding which ones needed cleaning.’* 

“ Do you know where they were to be sent? ** 

Mrs. Pierce looked a little surprised at this 
question. 

‘‘ Miss Lloyd always sends her things to Carter 
& Brown’s,” she said. 

Now, Carter & Brown was the firm name on 
the advertisement, and it was evident at once that 
the coroner considered this a damaging admission. 

He sat looking greatly troubled, but before he 
spoke again, Mr. Parmalee made an observation 
that decidedly raised that young man in my 
estimation. 

“ Well,” he said, that’s pretty good proof 
that the gold bag doesn’t belong to Miss Lloyd.” 

“ How so ? ” asked the coroner, who had 
thought quite the contrary. 

Why, if Miss Lloyd always sends her goods 
to be cleaned to Carter & Brown, why would she 
need to cut their address from a newspaper and 
save it ? ** 

At first I thought the young man’s deduction 
distinctly clever, but on second thought I wasn’t 
so sure. Miss Lloyd might have wanted that 
address for a dozen good reasons. To my mind. 


122 


THE GOLD BAG 


it proved neither her ownership of tlie gold bag, 
nor the contrary. 

In fact, I thought the most important indica- 
tion that the bag might be hers lay in the story 
Elsa told about the cousin who sailed to Germany. 
Somehow that sounded imtrue to me, but I was 
more than willing to believe it if I could. * 

I longed for Fleming Stone, who, I felt sure, 
could learn from the bag and its contents the whole 
truth about the crime and the criminal. 

But I had been called to take charge of the 
case, and my pride forbade me to call on any one 
for help. 

I had scorned deductions from inanimate ob- 
jects, but I resolved to study that bag again, and 
study it more minutely. Perhaps there were some 
threads or shreds caught in its meshes that might 
point to its owner. I remembered a detective story 
I read once, in which the whole discovery of the 
criminal depended on identifying a few dark blue 
woollen threads which were found in a small pool 
of candle grease on a veranda roof. As it turned 
out, they were from the trouser knee of a man 
who had knelt there to open a window. The patent 
absurdity of leaving threads from one's trousef 
knee, amused me very much, but the accommodat- 
ing criminals in fiction almost always leave threads 


FURTHER INQUIRY 


123 


or shreds behind them. And surely a gold-mesh 
bag, with its thousands of links would be a fine 
trap to catch some threads of evidence, however 
minute they might be. 

Furthermore I decided to probe further into 
that yellow rose business. I was not at all sure 
that those petals I found on the floor had anything 
to do with Miss Lloyd’s roses, but it must be a 
question possible of settlement, if I went about it 
in the right way. At any rate, though I had definite 
work ahead of me, my duty just now was to 
listen to the forthcoming evidence, though I could 
not help thinking I could have put questions more 
to the point than Mr. Monroe did. 

Of course the coroner’s inquest was not 
formally conducted as a trial by jury would be, and 
so any one spoke, if he chose, and the coroner 
seemed really glad when suggestions were offered 
him. 

At this point Philip Crawford rose. 

“ It is impossible,” he said, “ not to see whither 
these questions are tending. But you are on the 
wrong tack, Mr. Coroner. No matter how evidence 
may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd’s asso- 
ciation with this crime, it is only seeming. That 
gold bag might have been hers and it might not. 
But if she says it isn’t, why, then it isn^t! Not- 


124 


THE GOLD BAG 


withstanding the state of affairs between my 
brother and his niece, there is not the shadow 
of a possibility that the young woman is im- 
plicated in the slightest degree, and the sooner you 
leave her name out of consideration, and turn your 
search into other channels, the sooner you will find 
the real criminal.” 

It was not so much the words of Philip Craw- 
ford, as the sincere way in which they were spoken, 
that impressed me. Surely he was right; surely 
this beautiful girl was neither principal nor ac- 
cessory in the awful crime which, by a strange 
coincidence, gave to her her fortune and her lover. 

Mr. Crawford^s right,” said Lemuel Porter. 
‘‘If this jury allows itself to be misled by a gold 
purse and two petals of a yellow rose, we are un- 
worthy to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, 
the long French windows in the office were open, 
or, at least, unfastened all through the night. We 
have that from the butler’s testimony. He didn’t 
lock them last night; they were found unlocked 
this morning. Therefore, I hold that an intruder, 
either man or woman, may have come in during 
the night, accomplished the fatal deed, and de- 
parted without any one being the wiser. That this 
intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the bag 
she left behind her. For, as Mr, Crawford has 


FURTHER INQUIRY 


125 


said, if Miss Lloyd denies the ownership of that 
bag, it is not hers.’' 

After all, these declarations were proof, of a 
sort. If Mr. Porter and Mr. Philip Crawford, 
who had known Florence Lloyd for years, spoke 
thus positively of her innocence, it could not be 
doubted. 

And then the voice of Parmalee again sounded 
in my ears. 

‘‘Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford 
would” stand up for Miss Lloyd ; it would be strange 
if they didn’t. And of course, Mrs. Pierce will 
do all she can to divert suspicion. But the evi- 
dences are against her.” 

“ They only seem to be,” I corrected. “ Until 
we prove the gold bag and the yellow' rose to be 
hers, there is no evidence against her at all.” 

“ She also had motive and opportunity. Those 
two points are of quite as much importance as 
evidence.” 

“ She had motive and opportunity,” I agreed, 
“ but the}^ were not exclusive. As Mr. Porter 
pointed out, the open windows gave opportunity 
that was world wide; and as to motive, how are 
we to know who had or who hadn’t it.” 

“ You’re right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too 
positive of Miss Lloyd’s implication in the matter. 


126 


THE GOLD BAG 


but I’m quite willing to be convinced to the con- 
trary.” 

The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course 
not audible to any one save myself. But the 
speeches which had been made by Mr. Crawford 
and Mr. Porter, and which, strange to say, 
amounted to an arraignment and a vindication 
almost in the same breath, had a decided effect 
upon the assembly. 

Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory 
Hall looked startled, as if the mere idea of Miss 
Lloyd’s implication was a nevr thought to him. 
Lawyer Randolph looked considerably disturbed, 
and I at once suspected that his legal mind would 
not allow him to place too much dependence on 
the statements of the girl’s sympathetic friends. 

Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors wLom I 
liked, seemed to be thoughtfully w^eighing the 
evidence. He was not so well acquainted with 
Miss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in 
her behalf, and he made a remark somewhat 
diffidently. 

I agree,” he said, “ with the sentiments just 
expressed ; but I also think that we should endeavor 
to find some further clues or evidence. Had Mr. 
Crawford any enemies who would come at night 


FURTHER INQUIRY 


127 


to kill him? Or are there any valuables missing? 
Could robbery have been the motive ? ” 

“ It does not seem so/' replied the coroner. 
“ Nothing is known to be missing. Mr. Craw- 
ford’s watch and pocket money were not disturbed.” 

'' The absence of the weapon is a strange factor 
in the case,” put in Mr. Orville, apparently desirous 
of having his voice heard as well as those of the 
other jurors. 

Yes,” agreed Mr. Monroe; ‘‘and yet it is 
not strange that the criminal carried away with 
him what might have been a proof of his identity.” 

“ Does Miss Lloyd own a pistol? ” blurted out 
Mr. Parmalee. 

Gregory Hall gave him an indignant look, but 
Coroner Monroe seemed rather glad to have the 
question raised — ^probably so that it could be 
settle at once in the negative. 

And it was. 

“ No,” replied Mrs. Pierce, when the query 
was put to her. “ Both Florence and I are des- 
perately afraid of firearms. We wouldn’t dream 
of owning a pistol — either of us.” 

Of course, this was significant, but in no way 
decisive. Granting that Miss Lloyd could have 
been the criminal, it would have been pos- 
sible for her secretly • to procure a revolver, and 


128 


THE GOLD BAG 


secretly to dispose of it afterward. Then, too, a 
small revolver had been used. To be sure, this did 
not necessarily imply that a woman had used it, 
but, taken in connection with the bag and the rose 
petals, it gave food for thought. 

But the coroner seemed to think Mrs. Pierce’s 
assertions greatly in Miss Lloyd’s favor, and, being 
at the end of his list of witnesses, he inquired if 
any one else in the room knew of anything that 
could throw light on the matter. 

No one responded to this invitation, and the 
coroner then directed the jury to retire to find a i 
verdict. The six men passed into another room, 
and I think no one who awaited their return appre- 
hended any other result than the somewhat un- 
satisfactory one of ‘‘ person or persons unknown.” 

And this was what the foreman announced 
when the jury returned after their short collocution. 

Then, as a jury, they w^ere dismissed, but from 
that moment the mystery of Joseph Crawford’s 
death became the absorbing thought of all West 
Sedgwick. 

''The murderer of my brother shall be found 
and brought to justice! ” declared Philip Crawford, 
and all present seemed to eclio his vow. 

Then and there, Mr. Crawford retained Lawyer 
Randolph to help him in running down the villain. 


FURTHER INQUIRY 129 

and, turning to me, asked to engage my services 
also. 

To this, I readily agreed, for I greatly desired 
to go on with the matter, and cared little whether 
I worked for an individual or for the State. 

Of course Mr. Crawford’s determination to 
find the murderer proved anew his conviction that 
Florence Lloyd was above all suspicion, but in the 
face of certain details of the evidence so far, I 
could not feel so absolutely certain of this. 

However, it was my business to follow up every 
clue, or apparent clue, and every bit of evidence, 
and this I made up my mind to do, regardless of 
consequences. 

I confess it was difficult for me to feel regard- 
less of consequences, for I had a haunting fear 
that the future was going to look dark for Florence 
Llpyd. And if it should be proved that she was 
in any way responsible for or accessory to this 
crime, I knew I should wish I had had nothing 
to do with discovering that fact. But back of this 
was an undefined but insistent conviction that the 
girl was innocent, and that I could prove it. This 
may have been an inordinate faith in my own 
powers, or it may have been a hope born of my 
admiration for the young woman herself. For 
there is no doubt, that for the first time in my 


9 


130 


THE GOLD BAG 


life I was taking a serious interest in a woman’s 
personality. Heretofore I had been a general 
admirer of womankind, and I had naturally treated 
them all with chivalry and respect. But now I 
had met one whom I desired to treat in a far 
tenderer way, and to my chagrin I realized that I 
had no right to entertain such thoughts toward a 
girl already betrothed. 

So I concluded to try my best to leave Florence 
Lloyd’s personality out of the question, to leave 
my feelings toward her out of the question, and 
to devote my energies to real work on the case and 
prove by intelligent effort that I could learn facts 
from evidence without resorting to the microscopic 
methods of Fleming Stone. I purposely ignored 
the fact that I would have been only too glad to 
use these methods had I the power to do so! 


I 


IX 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 

For the next day or two the Crawford house 
presented the appearance usual in any home during 
the days immediately preceding a funeral. 

By tacit consent, all reference to the violence 
of Mr. Crawford’s death was avoided, and a 
rigorous formality was the keynote of all the 
ceremonies. The servants were garbed in correct 
mourning, the ladies of the house refused to see 
anybody, and all personal callers were met by 
Philip Crawford or his wife, while business 
acquaintances were received by Gregory Hall. 

As private secretary, of course Mr. Hall was 
in full charge of Mr. Crawford’s papers and per- 
sonal effects. But, in addition to this, as the pro- 
spective husband of the heiress, he was practically 
the head of the house. 

He showed no elation or ostentation at this 
state of affairs, but carried himself with an air of 
quiet dignity, tinged with a suggestion of sadness, 
which, if merely conventional, seemed none the 
less sincere. 

I soon learned that the whole social atmosphere 

131 


THE GOLD BAG 


of West Sedgwick was one of extreme formality, 
and everything was done in accordance with the 
most approved conventions. Therefore, I found I 
■could get no chance for a personal conversation 
with Miss Lloyd until after the funeral. 

I had, however, more or less talk with Gregory 
Hall, and as I became acquainted with him, I liked 
him less. 

He was of a cold and calculating disposition, 
and when we were alone, he did not hesitate to 
gloat openly over his bright prospects. 

Terrible thing, to be put out of existence 
like that,’^ he said, as we sat in Mr. Crawford’s 
office, looking over some papers ; but it solved a 
big problem for Florence and me. However, we’ll 
be married as soon as we decently can, and then 
we’ll go abroad, and forget the tragic part of it 
all.” 

** I suppose you haven’t a glimmer of a sus- 
picion as tO' who did it,” I ventured. 

No, I haven’t. Not the faintest notion. But 
I wish you could find out. Of course, nobody 
holds up that bag business as against Florence, but 
— it’s uncomfortable all the same. I wish I’d been 
here that night I’m ’most sure I’d have heard a 
shot, or something.” 

Where were you? ” I said, in a careless tone. 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


13S 


Flail drew himself up stiffly. “ Excuse me/’ he 
said. I declined to answer that question before. 
Since I was not in West Sedgwick, it can matter 
to no one where I was.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” I returned affably, for 
I had no desire to get his ill will. But of course 
we detectives have to ask questions. By the way, 
where did you buy Miss Lloyd’s yellow roses ? ” 

See here,” said Gregory Hall, with a petulant 
expression, “ I don’t want to be questioned. I’m 
not on the witness-stand, and, as I’ve told you. I’m 
uncomfortable already about these so-called ^ clues ’ 
that seem to implicate Miss Lloyd. So, if you 
please. I’ll say nothing.” 

All right,” I responded, “ just as you like.” 

I went away from the house, thinking how 
foolish people could be. I could easily discover 
where he bought the roses, as' there were only three 
florists’ shops in West Sedgwick and I resolved to 
go at once to hunt up the florist who sold them. 

Assuming he would naturally go to the shop 
nearest the railroad station, and which was also 
on the way from the Crawford house, I went there 
first, and found my assumption correct. 

The florist was more than willing to talk on 
the subject. 

Yes, sir,” he said ; ‘‘ I sold those roses to 


134 


THE GOLD BAG 


Mr. Hall — sold ’em to him myself. He wanted 
something extra nice, and I had just a dozen of 
those big yellow beauties. No, I don’t raise my 
own flowers. I get ’em from the city. And 
so I had just that dozen, and I sent ’em right up. 
Well, there was some delay, for two of my boys 
were out to supper, and I waited for one to get 
back.” 

And you had no other roses just like these 
in stock? ” 

“ No, sir. Hadn’t had for a week or more. 
Haven’t any now. May not get any more at all. 
They’re a scarce sort, at best, and specially so this 
year.” 

'' And you sent Miss Lloyd the whole dozen ? ” 

“ Yes, sir; twelve. I like to put in an extra one 
or two when I can, but that time I couldn’t. There 
wasn’t another rose like them short of New York 
City.” 

I thanked the florist, and, gues.sing that he was 
not above it, I gave him a more material token of 
my gratitude for his information, and then walked 
slowly back to my room at the inn. 

Since there were no other roses of that sort 
in West Sedg\vick that evening, it seemed to me 
as if Florence Lloyd must have gone down to her 
uncle’s oflice after having pinned the blossom on 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


135 


her bodice. The only other possibility was that 
some intruder had entered by way of the French 
window wearing or carrying a similar flower, and 
that this intruder had come from New York, or 
at least from some place other than West Sedgwick. 
It was too absurd. Murderers don’t go about 
decked with flowers, and yet at midnight a man 
in evening dress was not impossible, and evening 
dress might easily imply a boutonniere. 

Well, this well-dressed man I had conjured up 
in my mind must have come from out of town, 
or else whence the flower, after all? 

And then I bethought myself of that late news- 
paper. An extra, printed probably as late as eleven 
o’clock at night, must have been brought out to 
West Sedgwick by a traveller on some late train. 
Why not Gregory Hall, himself? I let my imagina- 
tion run riot for a minute. Mr. Hall refused to 
say where he was on the night of the murder. Why 
not assume that he had come out from New York, 
in evening dress, at or about midnight ? This would 
account for the newspaper and the yellow rose 
petals, for, if he bought a boutonniere in the city, 
how probable he would select the same flower he 
had just sent his fiancee. 

I rather fancied the idea of Gregory Hall as 
the criminal. He had the same motive as Miss 


136 


THE GOLD BAG 


Lloyd. He knew of her uncle’s objection to their 
union, and his threat of disinheritance. How easy 
for him to come out late from New York, on a 
night when he was not expected, and remove for- 
ever the obstacle to his future happiness! 

I drew myself up with a start. This was not 
detective work. This was mere idle speculation. 
I must shake it off, and set about collecting some 
real evidence. 

But the thought still clung to me; mere specu- 
lation it might be, but it was founded on the same 
facts that already threw suspicion on Florence 
Lloyd. With the exception of the gold bag — and 
that she disclaimed — such evidence as I knew of 
pointed toward Mr. Hall as well as toward Miss 
Lloyd. 

However at present I was on the trail of those 
roses, and I determined to follow that trail to a 
definite end. I went back to the Crawford house 
and as I did not like to ask for Miss Lloyd, I asked 
for Mrs. Pierce, 

She came down to the drawing room, and 
greeted me rather more cordially than I had dared 
to hope. I had a feeling that both ladies resented 
my presence there, for so many women have a 
prejudice against detectives. 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


137 


But though nervous and agitated, Mrs. Pierce 
spoke to me kindly. 

Did you want to see me for anything in 
particular, Mr. Burroughs?” she asked. 

Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce,” I replied ; I may as 
well tell you frankly that I want to find out all I 
can about those yellow roses.” 

Oh, those roses ! Shall I never hear the last 
of them? I assure you, Mr. Burroughs, they’re 
of no importance whatever.” 

That is not for you to decide,” I said quietly, 
and I began to see that perhaps a dictatorial attitude 
might be the best way to manage this lady. “Are 
the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd’s room ? 
If so I wish to see them.” 

I don’t know whether they are or not ; but 
I will find out, and if so I’ll bring them down.” 

‘‘ No,” I said, ‘‘ I will go with you to see them.” 

But Florence may be in her room.” 

“ So much the better. She can tell me anything 
I wish to know.” 

‘‘Oh, please don’t interview her! I’m sure she 
wouldn’t want to talk with you.” 

“ Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, 
and I will go there with you now.” 

Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder 
if I ha(| gone too far or had overstepped my 


138 


THE GOLD BAG 


authority. But it was surely my duty to learn all 
I could about Florence Lloyd, and what so prom- 
ising of suggestions as her own room? 

Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and 
affably enough she asked me to accompany her to 
Miss Lloyd's room. 

I did so, and after entering devoted my whole 
attention to the bunch of yellow roses, which in 
a glass vase stood on the window seat. Although 
somewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and 
without the slightest doubt were the kind of rose 
from which the tw’o tell-tale petals had fallen. 

Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. 
There were nine, each one seemingly with its full 
complement of petals, though of this I could not 
be perfectly certain. 

‘‘ Now, Mrs. Pierce," I said, turning to her 
with an air of authority which was becoming diffi- 
cult to maintain, ‘‘ where are the roses which Miss 
Lloyd admits having pinned to her gown ? " 

“ Mercy ! I don’t know," exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, 
looking bewildered. ‘‘ I suppose she threw them 
aw^ay." 

“ I suppose she did," I returned ; “ would she 
not be likely to throw them in the waste basket ? " 

'' She might," returned Mrs. Pierce, turning 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


139 


toward an ornate affair of wicker-work and pink 
ribbons. 

Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps 
of paper, were two exceedingly withered yellow 
roses. I picked them out and examined them, but 
in their present state it was impossible to tell 
whether they had lost any petals or not, so I threw 
them back in the basket. 

Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence 
or deduction in the matter, but began to lament 
the carelessness of the chambermaid who had not 
emptied the waste basket the day before. 

But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, 
and began pondering on this new development of 
the rose question. The nine roses in the vase and 
the two in the basket made but ele\^en, and the 
florist had told me tliat he had sent a dozen. Where 
was the twelfth? 

The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd 
might have put away one as a sentimental souvenir, 
but to my mind she did not seem the kind of a girl 
to do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, for 
what man can predicate what a woman will do ? but 
at the same time I could not seem to imagine 
the statuesque, imperial Aliss Lloyd tenderly pre- 
serving a rose that her lover had given her. 

But might not Gregory Hall have taken one 


140 


THE GOLD BAG 


of the dozen for himself before sending the rest? 
This was merely surmise, but it was a possibility, 
and at any rate the twelfth rose was not in Miss 
Lloyd’s room. 

Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be 
reckoned with, a bit of evidence to be found ; and I 
determined to find it. 

I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an in- 
terview with Miss Lloyd, but the elder lady seemed 
doubtful. 

“ I’m quite sure she won’t see you,” she said, 
‘‘ for she has declared she will see no one until 
after the funeral. But if you want me to ask her 
anything for you, I will do so.” 

Very well,” I said, surprised at her willing- 
ness; ‘‘please ask Miss Lloyd if she knows what 
became of the twelfth yellow rose ; and beg her to 
appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in the 
case.” 

Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went 
down the stairs she promised to join me in the 
library a few moments later. 

She kept her promise, and I waited eagerly 
her report. 

“ Miss Lloyd bids me tell you,” she said, 
“ that she knows nothing of what you call the 
twelfth rose. She did not count the roses, she 


V 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


141 


merely took two of them to pin on her dress, and 
when she retired, she carelessly threw those two 
in the waste basket. She thinks it probable there 
were only eleven in the box when it arrived. But 
at any rate she knows nothing more of the matter.” 

I thanked Mrs. Pierce for her courtesy and 
patience, and feeling that I now had a real problem 
to consider, I started back to the inn. 

It could not be that this rose matter was of np 
importance. For the florist had assured me he 
had sold exactly twelve flowers to Mr. Gregory 
Hall, and of these, I could account for only eleven. 
The twelfth rose must have been separated from 
the others, either by Mr. Hall, at the time of pur- 
chase, or by some one else later. If the petals 
found on the floor fell from that twelfth rose, and 
if Florence Lloyd spoke the truth when she declared 
she knew nothing of it, then she was free from 
suspicion in that direction. 

But until I could make some further effort to 
find out about the missing rose I concluded to say 
nothing of it to anybody. I was not bound to tell 
Parmalee any points I might discover, for though 
colleagues, we were working independently of each 
other. 

But as I was anxious to gather any side lights 
possible, I determined to go for a short conference 


142 


THE GOLD BAG 


with the district attorney, in whose hands the case 
had been put after the coroner’s inquest. 

He was a man named Goodrich, a quiet man- 
nered, untalkative person, and as might be ex- 
pected he had made little or no progress as yet. 

He said nothing could be done until after the 
funeral and the reading of the will, which cere- 
monies would occur the next afternoon. 

I talked but little to Mr. Goodrich, yet I soon 
discovered that he strongly suspected Miss Lloyd 
of the crime, either as principal or accessory. 

“ But I can’t believe it,” I objected. ‘‘ A girl, 
delicately brought up, in refined and luxurious sur- 
roundings, does not deliberately commit an 
atrocious crime.” 

‘‘ A woman thwarted in her love affair will do 
almost anything,” declared Mr. Goodrich. ‘‘ I 
have had more experience than you, my boy, and 
I advise you not to bank too much on the refined 
and luxurious surroundings. Sometimes such 
things foster crime instead of preventing it. But 
the truth will come out, and soon, I think. The 
evidence that seems to point to Miss Lloyd can 
be easily proved or disproved, once we get at the 
work in earnest. That coroner’s jury was made 
up of men who were friends and neighbors of Mr. 
Crawford. They were so prejudiced by sympathy 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


143 


for Miss Lloyd, and indignation at the unknown 
criminal, that they couldn’t give unbiased judg- 
ment. But we will yet see justice done. If Miss 
Lloyd is innocent, we can prove it. But remember 
the provocation she was under. Remember the 
opportunity she had, to visit her uncle alone in his 
office, after every one else in the house was asleep. 
Remember that she had a motive — a strong motive 
— and no one else had.” 

Except Mr. Gregory Hall,” I said meaningly. 

‘‘Yes; I grant he had the same motive. But 
he is known to have left town at six that evening, 
and did not return until nearly noon the next day. 
That lets him out.” 

“ Yes, unless he came back at midnight, and 
then went back to the city again.” 

“Nonsense!” said Mr. Goodrich. “That’s 
fanciful. Why, the latest train — the theatre train, 
as we call it — gets in at one o’clock, and it’s always 
full of our society people returning from gayeties 
in New York. He would have been seen had he 
come on that train, and there is no later one.” 

I didn’t stay to discuss the matter further. In- 
deed, Mr. Goodrich had made me feel that my 
theories were fanciful. 

But whatever my theories might be there were 
still facts to be investigated. 


144 


THE GOLD BAG 


Remembering my determination to examine 
that gold bag more thoroughly I asked Mr. Good- 
rich to let me see it, for of course, as district 
attorney, it was now in his possession. 

He gave it to me with an approving nod. 
“ That’s the way to work,” he said. That bag is 
your evidence. Now from that, you detectives 
must go ahead and learn the truth.” 

“ Whose bag is it ? ” I said, with the intention 
of drawing him out. 

“ It’s Miss Lloyd’s bag,” he said gravely. “ Any 
woman in the world would deny its ownership, in 
the existing circumstances, and I am not surprised 
that she did so. Nor do I blame her for doing so. 
Self preservation is a mighty strong impulse in 
the human heart, and we’ve all got a right to 
obey it.” 

As I took the gold bag from his hand, I didn’t 
in the least believe that Florence Lloyd was the 
owner of it, and I resolved anew to prove this to 
the satisfaction of everybody concerned. 

Mr. Goodrich turned away and busied himself 
about other matters, and I devoted myself to deep 
study. 

The contents of the bag proved as blank and un- 
suggestive as ever. The most exhaustive examina- 
tion of its chain, its clasp and its thousands of 


THE TWELFTH ROSE 


145 


links gave me not the tiniest thread or shred of 
any sort. 

But as I poked and pried around in its lining I 
found a card, which had slipped between the main 
lining and an inside pocket. 

I drew it out as carefully as I could, and it 
proved to be a small plain visiting card bearing 
the engraved name, “ Mrs. Egerton Purvis,’^ 

I sat staring at it, and then furtively glanced 
at Mr. Goodrich. He was not observing me, and 
I instinctively felt that I did not wish him to know 
of the card until I myself had given the matter 
further thought. 

I returned the card to its hiding place and 
returned the bag to Mr. Goodrich, after which I 
went away. 

I had not copied the name, for it was indelibly 
photographed upon my brain. As I walked along 
the street I tried to construct the personality of 
Mrs. Egerton Purvis from her card. But I was 
able to malce no rational deductions, except that 
the name sounded aristocratic, and was quite in 
keeping with the general effect of the bag and its 
contents. 

To be sure I might have deduced that she was 
a lady of average height and size, because she 
wore a number six glove; that she was careful 
10 


146 


THE GOLD BAG 


of her personal appearance, because she possessed 
a vanity case; that she was of tidy habits, be- 
cause she evidently expected to send her gowns to 
be cleaned. But all these things seemed to me 
puerile and even ridiculous, as such characteristics 
would apply to thousands of woman all over the 
country. 

Instead of this, I went straight to the telegraph 
office and wired to headquarters in a cipher code. 
I instructed them to learn the identity and where- 
abouts of Mrs. Egerton Purvis, and advise me as 
soon as possible. 

Then I returned to the Sedgwick Arms, feeling 
decidedly well satisfied with my morning’s work, 
and content to wait until after Mr. Crawford’s 
funeral to do any further real work in the matter. 


X 


THE WILL 

I WENT to the Crawford house on the day of 
the funeral, but as I reached there somewhat earlier 
than the hour appointed, I went into the office 
with the idea of looking about for further clues. 

In the office I found Gregory Hall, looking 
decidedly disturbed. 

“ I can’t find Mr. Crawford’s will,” he said, 
as he successively looked through one drawer after 
another. 

“ What ! ” I responded. ‘‘ Hasn’t that been 
located already ? ” 

Ncf; it’s this way: I didn’t see it here in 
this office, or in the New York office, so I assumed 
Mr. Randolph had it in his possession. But it 
seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only 
this morning we discovered our mutual error, and 
Mr. Randolph concluded it must be in Mr. Craw- 
ford’s safety deposit box at the bank in New York. 
So Mr. Philip Crawford hurried through his ad- 
ministration papers — he is to be executor of the 
estate — and went in to get it from the bank. But 

147 


THE GOLD BAG 


(48 

he has just returned with the word that it wasn’t 
there. So we’ve no idea where it is.” 

“ Oh, well,” said I, since he hadn’t yet made 
the new will he had in mind, everything belongs 
to Miss Lloyd.” 

“ That’s just the point,” said Hall, his face tak- 
ing on a despairing look. “ If we don’t find that 
will, she gets nothing ! ” 

“ How’s that? ” I said. 

Why, she’s really not related to the Craw- 
fords. She’s a niece of Joseph Crawford’s wife. 
So in the absence of a will his proi>erty will all 
go to his brother Philip, who is his legal heir.” 

‘‘ Oho ! ” I exclaimed. “ This is a new develop- 
ment. But the will will turn up.” 

'' Oh, yes. I’m sure of it,” returned Hall, but 
his anxious face showed anything but confidence 
in his own words. 

“ But,” I went on, didn’t Philip Crawford ob- 
ject to his brother’s giving aH his fortune to Miss 
Lloyd?” 

It didn’t matter if he did. Nobody could move 
Joseph Crawford’s determination. And I fancy 
Philip didn’t make any great disturbance about it. 
Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he 
.chose with his own, and the will gave Philip a nice 


THE WILL 


149 


little sum, any way. Not much, compared to the 
whole fortune, but, still, a generous bequest.” 

‘‘ What does Mr. Randolph say? ” 

He’s completely baffled. He doesn’t know 
what to think.” 

“ Can it have been stolen? ” 

“Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear 
he may have destroyed it because he expected to 
make a different one. In that case, Florence is 
penniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford 
chooses to bestow on her.” 

I didn’t like the tone in which Hall said this. 
It was distinctly aggrieved, and gave the impression 
that Florence Lloyd, penniless, was of far less 
importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her 
uncle’s millions. 

“ But he would doubtless provide properly for 
her,” I said. 

“ Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself 
in a very different position, dependent on his gen- 
erosity, from what she would be as sole heir to her 
uncle’s fortune.” 

I looked steadily at the man. Although not 
well acquainted with him, I couldn’t resist giving 
expression to my thought. 

“ But since you are to marry her,” I said, “ she 


150 


THE GOLD BAG 


need not long be dependent upon her uncle's 
charity." 

“ Philip Crawford isn’t really her uncle, and 
no one can say what he will do in the matter." 

Gregory. Hall was evidently greatly disturbed 
at the new situation brought about by the disap- 
pearance of Mr. Crawford’s will. But apparently 
the main reason for his disturbance was the im- 
pending poverty of his fiancee. There was no 
doubt that Mr. Carstairs arid others who had called 
this man a fortune-hunter had judged him rightly. 

However, without further words on the sub- 
ject, I waited while Hall locked the door of the 
office, and then we went together to the great 
drawing-room, where the funeral services were 
about to take place. 

I purposely selected a position from which I 
could see the faces of the group of people most 
nearly connected with the dead man. I had a 
strange feeling, as I looked at them, that one of 
them might be the instrument of -the crime which 
had brought about this funeral occasion. 

During the services I looked closely and in 
turn at each face, but beyond the natural emotions 
of grief which might be expected, I could read 
nothing more. 

The brother, Philip Crawford, the near neigh- 


THE WILL 


151 


bors, Mr. Porter and Mr. Hamilton, the lawyer, 
Mr. Randolph, all sat looking grave and solemn as 
they heard the last words spoken above their dead 
friend. 71ie ladies of the household, quietly con- 
trolling their emotions, sat near me, and next to 
Florence Lloyd Gregory Hall had seated himself. 

All of these people I watched closely, half hop- 
ing that some inadvertent sign might tell me of 
someone's knowledge of the secret. But when the 
clergyman referred to the retribution that would 
sooner or later overtake the criminal I could see 
an expression of fear or apprehension on no face 
save that of Florence Lloyd. She turned even 
whiter than before, her pale lips compressed in a 
straight line, and her small black gloved hand 
softly crept into that of Gregory Hall. The move- 
ment was not generally noticeable, but it seemed 
to me pathetic above all things. Whatever her 
position in the matter, she was surely appealing to 
him for help and protection. 

Without directly repulsing her, Hall was far 
from responsive. He allowed her hand to rest in 
his own but gave her no answering pressure, and 
looked distinctly relieved when, after a moment, 
she withdrew it. 

I saw that Parmalee also had observed this, 
and I could see that to him it was an indication 


152 


THE GOLD BAG 


of the girl’s perturbed spirit. To me it seemed 
that it might equally well mean many other things. 
For instance it might mean her apprehension for 
Gregory Hall, who, I couldn’t help thinking was 
far more likely to be a wrongdoer than the girl 
herself. 

With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean 
much information from the present opportunity, 
and contented myself with the melancholy pleasure 
it gave me simply to look at the sad sweet face 
of the girl who was already enshrined in my 
heart. 

After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies 
were over, a little assembly gathered in the library 
to hear the reading of the will. 

As, until then, no one had known of the disap- 
pearance of the will, except the lawyer and the 
secretary, it came as a thunderbolt. 

“ I have no explanation to offer,” said Mr. 
Randolph, looking greatly concerned, but free of 
all personal responsibility. “ Mr. Crawford always 
kept the will in his own possession. When he came 
to see me, the last evening he was alive, in regard 
to making a new will, he did not bring the old 
one with him. We arranged to meet in his office 
the next morning to draw up the new instrument, 
when he doubtless expected to destroy the old one. 


THE WILL 


15S 


He may have destroyed it on his return home that 
evening. I do not know. But so far it has not 
been found among his papers in either of his offices 
or in the bank. Of course it may appear, as the 
search, though thorough, has not yet been exhaust- 
ive. We will, therefore, hold the matter in abey- 
ance a few days, hoping to find the missing 
document.” 

His hearers were variously affected by this 
news. Florence Lloyd was simply dazed. She 
could not seem to grasp a situation which so sud- 
denly changed her prospects. For she well knew 
that in the event of no will being found, Joseph 
Crawford’s brother would be his rightful heir, and 
she would be legally entitled to nothing at all. 

Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expression- 
less face. Quite able to control his emotion, if he 
felt any, he made no sign that he welcomed tliis 
possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly coming 
to him. 

Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had re- 
mained because of their c^se friendship with the 
family, spoke out rather abruptly: 

“ Find it ! Of course it must be found ! It’s 
absurd to think the man destroyed one will before 
the other was drawn.” 

I agree with you,” said Philip Crawford. 


154 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, 
besides, I doubt if he would really have changed his 
will I think he merely threatened it, to see if 
Florence persisted in keeping her engagement/^ 

This was a generous speech on the part of 
Philip Crawford. To be sure, generosity of speech 
couldn’t affect the disposal of the estate. If no 
will were found, it must by law go to the brother, 
but none the less the hearty, whole-souled way in 
which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to his 
credit as a man. 

'' I think so, too,” agreed Mr. Porter. “ As 
you know, I called on Mr. Joseph Crawford during 
the — the last evening of his life.” 

The speaker paused, and indeed it must have 
been a sad remembrance that pictured itself to his 
mind. 

“ Did he then refer to the matter of the will? ” 
asked Mr. Randolph, in gentle tones. 

“ He did. Little wzs said on the subject, but 
he told me that unless Florence consented to his 
wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr. 
Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a 
small bequest.” 

“ In what manner did you respond, Mr. 
Porter? ” 

‘‘ I didn’t presume to advise him definitely, but 


THE WILL 


155 


I urged him not to be too hard on the girl, and, 
at any rate, not to make a new will until he had 
thought it over more deliberately.” 

“ What did he then say ? ” 

‘‘ Nothing of any definite import. He began 
talking of other matters, and the will was not again 
referred to. But I can’t help thinking he had not 
destroyed it.” 

At this. Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, 
glancing at Gregory Hall, she gave a little sigh, 
and remained silent. 

You know of nothing that can throw any 
light on the matter of the will, Mr. Hall ? ” asked 
Mr. Randolph. 

“ No, sir. Of course this whole situation is 
very embarrassing for me. I can only say that 
I have known for a long time the terms of Mr. 
Crawford’s existing will; I have known of his 
threats of changing it ; I have known of his attitude 
toward my engagement to his niece. But I never 
spoke to him on any of these subjects, nor he to 
me, tliough several times I have thought he was 
on the point of doing so. I have had access to 
most of his private papers,^ but of two or three 
small boxes he always retained the keys. I had no 
curiosity concerning the contents of these boxes, 
but I naturally assumed his will was in one of 


156 


THE GOLD BAG 


them. I have, however, opened these boxes since 
Mr. Crawford’s death, in company with Mr. 
Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we 
discover any in the New York office or in the 
bank. That is all I know of the matter.” 

Gregory Hall’s demeanor was dignified and 
calm, his voice even and, indeed, cold. He was 
like a bystander, with no vital interest in the sub- 
ject he talked about. 

Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, 
I came to the conclusion that he was a man of 
unusual self-control, and an ability to mask his 
real feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more 
could be learned at present, I left the group in the 
library discussing the loss of the will, and went 
down to the district attorney’s office. 

He was, of course, surprised at my news, and 
agreed with me that it gave us new fields for con- 
jecture. 

“ N )W, we see,” he said eagerly, that the 
motive for the murder was the theft of the will.” 

“ Not necessarily,” I replied. “ Mr. Crawford 
may have destroyed the will before he met his 
death.” 

“ But that would leave no motive. No, the will 
supplies the motive. Now, you see, this frees Miss 
Lloyd from suspicion. She would have no reason 


THE WILL 


157 


to kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a 
will in her own favor.’' 

“ That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from 
suspicion,” said I, reverting to my former theories. 

“Yes, it does. We must look for the one who 
has benefited by the removal of the will. That, of 
course, would be the brother, Mr. Philip Crawford.” 

I looked at the attorney a moment, and then 
burst into laughter. 

“ My dear Mr. Goodrich,” I said, “ don’t be 
absurd ! A man would hardly shoot his own 
brother, but aside from that, why should Philip 
Crawford kill Joseph just at the moment he is 
about to make a new will in Philip’s favor? Either 
the destruction of the old will or the drawing 
of the new would result in Philip’s falling heir to 
the fortune. So he would hardly precipitate 
matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had been 
keen about the money, he could have urged his 
brother to disinherit Florence Lloyd, and Joseph 
would have willingly done so. He was on the 
very point of doing so, any \yay.” 

“ That’s true,” said Mr. Goodrich, looking 
chagrined but unconvinced. “ However, it frees 
Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by removing her 
motive. As you say, she wouldn’t suppress a will 
in her favor, and thereby turn the fortune over to 


158 


THE GOLD BAG 


Philip. And, as you also said, this lets Gregory 
Hall out, too, though I never suspected him for a 
moment. But, of course, his intei'ests and Miss 
Lloyd’s are identical.” 

“ Wait a moment,” I said, for new thoughts 
were rapidly following one another through my 
brain. ‘‘ Not so fast, Mr. District Attorney. The 
disappearance of the will does not remove ‘ motive ’ 
from the possibility of Miss Lloyd’s complicity in 
this crime — or Mr. Hall’s either.” 

‘‘How so?” 

“ Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle 
was in possession of that will, her motive was 
identically the same as if he had possessed it. Now, 
she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise 
at the news of its loss was as unfeigned as my 
own. And of course Hall thought the will was 
among Mr. Crawford’s effects, for he has been 
searching constantly since the question was raised.” 

“ But I thought that yesterday you were so 
sure of Miss Lloyd’s innocence,” objected Mr. 
Goodrich. 

“ I was,” I said slowly, “ and I think I am 
still. But in the light of absolute evidence I am 
only declaring that the non-appearance of that will 
in no way interferes with the motive Miss Lloyd 
must have had if she is in any way guilty. She knew, 


THE WILL 


159 


or thought she knew, that the will was there, in 
her favor. She knew her uncle intended to revoke 
it and make another in her disfavor. I do not 
accuse her — I’m not sure I suspect her — I only 
say she had motive and opportunity.” 

As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich’s office, 
those words rang in my mind, — motive and op- 
portunity. Truly they applied to Mr. Hall as well 
as to Miss Llo3"d, although of course it would 
mean Hall’s coming out from the city and return- 
ing during the night. And though this might 
have been a difficult thing to do secretly, it was 
by no means impossible. He might not have come 
all the way to West Sedgwick Station, but might 
have dropped off the train earlier and taken the 
trolley. The trolley! that thought reminded me 
of the transfer I had picked up on the grass plot 
near the office veranda. Was it possible that slip 
of paper was a clue, and pointing toward Hall? 

Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, 
but hopeful of learning something about him, I 
strolled back to the Crawford house. I went 
directly to the office, and by good luck found 
Gregory Hall there alone. He was still searching 
among the papers of Mr. Crawford’s desk. 

'' Ah, Mr. Burroughs,” he said, as I entered, 
** I’m glad to see you. If detectives detect, you 


160 


THE GOLD BAG 


have a fine chance here to do a bit of good work. 
I wouldn’t mind offering you an honorarium my- 
self, if you could unearth the will that has so 
mysteriously disappeared.” 

Hall’s whole manner had changed. He had 
laid aside entirely the grave demeanor which he 
had shown at the funeral, and was again the alert 
business man. He was more than this. He was 
eager, — offensively so, — in his search for the will. 
It needed no detective instinct to see that the 
fortune of Joseph Crawford and its bestowment 
were matters of vital interest to him. 

But though his personal feelings on the subject 
might be distasteful to me, it was certainly part 
of my duty to aid in the search, and so with him 
I looked through the various drawers and filing 
cabinets. The papers representing or connected 
with the financial interests of the late millionaire 
were neatly filed and labelled; but in some parts 
of the desk we found the hodge-podge of personal 
odds and ends which accumulates with nearly 
everybody. 

Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my 
mind they showed a possibility of casting some 
light on Mr. Crawford’s personal affairs. 

But among old letters, photographs, programs, 
newspaper clippings, and such things, there was 


THE WILL 


161 


nothing that seemed of the slightest interest, until 
at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested 
my attention. 

“ Do you know who this is ? ” I inquired. 

No,” returned Hall, with a careless glance 
at it; a friend of Mr. Crawford’s, I suppose.” 

‘‘ More than a friend, I should judge,” and I 
turned the back of the picture toward him. Across 
it was written, with loving Christmas greetings, 
from M. S. P.”; and it was dated as recently as 
the Christmas previous. 

“ Well,” said Hall, Mr. Crawford may have 
had a lady friend who cared enough about him to 
send an affectionate greeting, but I never heard of 
her before, and I doubt if she is in any way 
responsible for the disappearance of this will.” 

He went on searching through the desks, giving 
no serious heed to the photograph. But to me it 
seemed important. I alone knew of the visiting 
card in the gold bag. I alone l^new that that bag 
belonged to a lady named Purvis. And here was a 
photograph initialed by a lady whose surname 
began with P, and who was unmistakably on affec- 
tionate terms with Mr. Crawford. To my mind 
the links began to form a chain ; the lady who had 
sent her photograph at Christmas, and whol had left 

11 


THE GOLD BAG 


im 

her gold bag in Mr. Crawford’s office the night he 
w.as killed, surely was a lady to be questioned. 

But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram 
to headquarters, so I said nothing to Hall on this 
subject, and putting the photograph in my pocket 
continued to assist him to look for the will, but 
without success. However, the discovery of the 
photograph had in a measure diverted my sus- 
picions from Gregory Hall; and though I en- 
deavored to draw him into general conversation, I 
did not ask him any definite questions about him- 
self. 

But the more I talked with him, the more I 
disliked him. He not only showed a mercenar}^, 
fortune-hunting spirit, but he showed himself in 
many ways devoid of the finer feelings and chival- 
rous nature that ought to belong to the man about 
to marry such a perfect flower of womanhood 
as Florence Lloyd. 


XI 


LOUIS’S STORY 

After spending an evening in thinking over 
the situation and piecing together my clues, I de- 
cided that the next thing to be done was to trace 
up that transfer. If I could fasten that upon 
Gregory Hall, it would indeed be a starting point 
to work from. Although this seemed to eliminate 
Mrs. Purvis, who had already become a living 
entity in my mind, I still had haunting suspicions 
of Hall; and then, too, there was a possibility of 
collusion between these two. It might be fanciful, 
but if Plall and the Purvis woman were both im- 
plicated, Hall was quite enough a clever villain 
to treat the photograph lightly as he had done. 

And so the next morning, I started for the 
office of the trolley car company. 

I learned without difficulty that the transfer I 
had found, must have been given to some passenger 
the night of Mr. Crawford’s death, but was not 
used. It had been issued after nine o’clock in the 
evening, somewhere on the line between New York 
and West Sedgwick. It was a transfer which en- 
titled a passenger on that line to a trip on the 

163 


164 


THE GOLD BAG 


branch line running through West Sedgwick, and 
the fact that it had not been used, implied either 
a negligent conductor or a decision on the part of 
the passenger not to take his intended ride. 

All this was plausible, though a far from 
definite indication that Hall might have come out 
from New York by trolley, or part way by trolley, 
and though accepting a transfer on the West Sedg- 
wick branch, had concluded not to use it. But the 
whole theory pointed equally as well to Mrs. Purvis, 
or indeed to the unknown intruder insisted upon 
by so many. I endeavored to learn something from 
certain conductors who brought their cars into 
West Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they 
carried a great many passengers and of course 
could not identify a transfer, of which scores of 
duplicates had been issued. 

Without much hope I interviewed the con- 
ductors of the West Sedgwick Branch Line. 
Though I could learn nothing definite, I fell into 
conversation with one of them, a young Irishman, 
who was interested because of my connection with 
the mystery. 

“ No, sir,’’ he said, “ I can’t tell you annythin’ 
about a stray transfer. But one thing I can tell 
you. That ’ere murder was committed of a 
Toosday night, wasn’t it? ” 


LOUIS’S STORY 


165 


Yes,” I returned. 

“ Well, that ’ere parly voo vally of Mr. Craw- 
ford’s, he’s rid on my car ’most every Toosday 
night fer weeks and weeks. It’s his night off. 
And last Toosday night he didn’t ride with me. 
Now I don’t know ’s that means anything, but agin 
it might.” 

It didn’t seem to me that it meant much, for 
certainly Louis was not under the slightest sus- 
picion. And yet as I came to think about it, if 
that had been Louis’s transfer and if he had dropped 
it near the office veranda, he had lied when he said 
that he went round the other side of the house 
to reach the back entrance. 

It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself 
down to the point that if that were Louis’s transfer 
it could be proved; and if not it must be inves- 
tigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued at a 
definite hour, and dropped just outside the scene 
of the crime was certainly a clue of importance. 

I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though 
I intended to have a talk with Louis later, I asked 
first for Miss Lloyd. Surely, if I were to carry 
on my investigation of the case, in her interests, 
I must have a talk with her. I had not intruded 
before, but now that the funeral was over, the real 
work of tracking the criminal must be commenced, 


166 


THE GOLD BAG 


and as one of the principal characters in the sad 
drama, Miss Lloyd must play her part. 

Until I found myself in her presence I had not 
actually realized how much I wanted this inter- 
view. 

I was sure that what she said, her manner 
and her facial expression, must either blot out or 
strengthen whatever shreds of suspicion I held 
against her. 

Miss Lloyd,” I began, “ I am, as you know, 
a detective; and I am here in Sedgwick for the 
purpose of discovering the cowardly assassin of your 
uncle. I assume that you wish to aid me in any 
way you can. Am I right in this? ” 

Instead of the unhesitating affii*mattve I had 
expected, the girl spoke irresolutely. “ Yes,” she 
said, “ but I fear I cannot help you, as I know 
nothing about it.” 

The fact that this reply did not sound to me 
as a rebuff, for which it was doubtless intended, I 
can only account for by my growing appreciation 
of her wonderful beauty. 

Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad 
all in white, and her simple wool gown gave her 
a statuesque appearance, which, however, was con- 
tradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and 
the sad droop of her lovely mouth. Her helpless- 


LOUIS’S STORY 


167 


ness appealed to me, and, though she assumed an 
air of composure, I well knew it was only assumed, 
aiiu that with some difficulty. 

Resolving to make it as easy as possible for 
her, I did not ask her to repeat the main facts, 
which I already knew. 

“ Then, Miss Lloyd,” I said, in response to her 
disclaimer, “ if you cannot help me, perhaps I can 
help you. I have reason to think that possibly Louis, 
your late uncle’s valet, did not tell the tmth in 
his testimony at the coroner’s inquest. I have 
reason to think that instead of going around the 
house to the back entrance as he described, he went 
around the other side, thus passing your uncle’s 
office.” 

To my suq>rise this information affected Miss 
Lloyd much more seriously than I supposed it 
would. 

What ? ” she said, and her voice was a fright- 
ened whisper. What time did he come home ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” I replied ; “ but you surely 
don’t suspect Louis of anything wrong. I was 
merely hoping, that if he did pass the office he 
might have looked in, and so could tell us of your 
uncle’s w^ell-being at that time.” 

At what time? ” 

'' At whatever time he returned home. Pre- 


168 


THE GOLD BAG 


sumably rather late. But since you are interested 
in the matter, will you not call Louis and let us 
question him together ? 

The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. 
She hesitated, and for a moment was unable to 
speak. Of course this behavior on her part filled 
my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be 
possible that she and Louis were in collusion, and 
that she dreaded the Frenchman’s disclosures? I 
remembered the strange looks he had cast at her 
while being questioned by the coroner. I re- 
membered his vehement denial of having passed 
the office that evening, — too vehement, it now 
seemed to me. However, if I were to learn anything 
damaging to Florence Lloyd’s integrity, I would 
rather learn it now, in her presence, than else- 
where. So I again asked her to send for the valet. 

With a despairing look, as of one forced to 
meet an impending fate, she rose, crossed the room 
and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seat 
and said quietly, ‘‘ You may ask the man such 
questions as you wish, Mr. Burroughs, but I beg 
you will not include me in the conversation.” 

Not unless it should be necessary,” I replied 
coldly, for I did not at all like her m'aking this 
stipulation. To me it savored of a sort of coward- 
ice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry. 


i 



I DREW THE TRANSFER FROM MY POCKET AND FAIRLY FLASHED IT IN HIS FACE 

Page 169 




LOUIS’S STORY 


169 


When the man appeared, I saw at a glance 
he was quite as much agitated as Miss Lloyd. 
There was no longer a possibility of a doubt that 
these two knew something, had some secret in 
common, which bore directly on the case, and which 
must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my 
mind that it might be only some trifling secret, 
which seemed of importance to them, but which 
was merely a side issue of the great question. 

I considered myself justified in taking advantage 
of the man’s perturbation, and without preliminary 
speech I drew the transfer from my pocket and 
fairly flashed it in his face. 

“ Louis,” I said sternly, “ you dropped this 
transfer when you came home the night of Mr. 
Crawford’s death.” 

The suddenness of my remark had the effect I 
desired, and fairly frightened the truth out of 
the man. 

“ Y — yes, sir,” he stammered, and then with a 
frightened glance at Miss Lloyd, he stood ner- 
vously interlacing his fingers. 

I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had 
regained entire self-possession, and sat looking 
straight before her with an air that seemed to say, 
“ Go on, I’m prepared for the worst.” 

As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes 


170 


THE GOLD BAG 


of the two, I lost my ground of vantage, for when 
I again spoke to the man, he too was more com- 
posed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless 
he was influenced by Miss Lloyd’s demeanor, for 
he imitatively assumed a receptive air. 

Where did you get the transfer? ” I went on. 

‘‘On the trolley, sir; the main line.” 

“ To be used on the Branch Line through West 
Sedgwick? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Why did you not use it?” 

“ As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the 
coroner, I have spend that evening with a young 
lady. We went for a trolley ride, and as we re- 
turned I take a transfer for myself, but not for 
her, as she live near where we alight.” 

“ Oh, you left the main line and took the young 
lady home, intending then yourself to come by 
trolley through West Sedgwick?” 

“Yes, sir; it was just that w'ay.” 

At this point Louis seemed to forget his em- 
barrassment, his gaze strayed away, and a happy 
expression came into his eyes. I felt sure I was 
reading his volatile French nature aright, when I 
assumed his mind had turned back to the pleasant 
evening he had spent with his young lady acquaint- 
ance. Somehow this went far to convince me of 


LOUIS’S STORY 


171 


the fellow’s innocence for it was quite evident the 
murder and its mystery were not uppermost in 
his thoughts at that moment. But my next question 
brought him back to realization of the present 
situation. 

And why didn’t you use your transfer? ” 
Only that the night, he was so pleasant, I 
desired to walk.” 

** And so you walked through the village, hold- 
ing, perhaps, the transfer in your hand?” 

‘‘ I think, yes ; but I do not remember the 
transfer in my hand, though he may have been 
there.” 

And now the man’s unquiet had returned. His 
lips twitched and his dark eyes rolled about, as 
he endeavored in vain to look anywhere but at 
Miss Lloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by 
a visible effort. 

Anxious to bring the matter to a crisis, I said 
at once, and directly: 

“ And then you entered the gates of this place, 
you walked to the house, you walked around the 
house to the back by way of the path which leads 
around by the library veranda, and you accidentally 
dropped your transfer near the veranda step.” 

I spoke quietly enough, but Louis immediately 
burst into voluble denial. 


172 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ No, no ! he exclaimed ; ‘‘ I do not go round 
by the office, I go the other side of the house. I 
have tell you so many times.’’ 

“ But I myself picked up your transfer near 
the office veranda.” 

Then he blow there. The wind blow that 
night, — oh, something fearful! He blow the paper 
around the house, I think.” 

‘‘ I don’t think so,” I retorted ; I think you 
went around the house that way, I think you paused 
at the office window ” 

Just here I made a dramatic pause myself, 
hoping thus to appeal to the emotional nature of 
my victim. And I succeeded. Louis almost 
slirieked as he pressed his hands against his eyes, 
and cried out: *‘No! no! I tell you I did not go 
round that way! I go round the other way, and 
the wind — the wind, he blow my transfer all 
about ! ” 

I tried a more quiet manner, I tried per- 
suasive arguments, I finally resorted to severity 
and even threats, but no admission could I get 
from Louis, except that he had not gone round the 
house by way of the office. I was positive the man 
was lying, and I was equally positive that Miss 
Lloyd knew he was lying, and that she knew why, 
but the matter seemed to me at a deadlock. I could 


LOUIS’S STORY 


173 


have questioned her, but I preferred to do that 
when Louis was not present. If she must suffer 
ignominy it need not be before a servant. So I 
dismissed Louis, perhaps rather curtly, and turning 
to Miss Lloyd, I asked her if she believed his 
assertion that he did not pass by the office that 
night. 

I don’t know what I believe,” she answered, 
wearily drawing her hand across her brow. “ And 
I can’t see that it matters anyway. Supposing 
he did go by the office, you certainly don’t suspect 
him of my uncle’s murder, do you? ” 

It is my duty. Miss Lloyd,” I said gently, for 
the girl was pitiably nervous, to get the testimony 
of any one who was in or near the office that night. 
But of course testimony is useless unless it is true.” 

I looked her straight in the eyes as I said this, 
for I was thoroughly convinced that her own testi- 
mony at the inquest had not been entirely true. 

I think she understood my glance, for she 
arose at once, and said with extreme dignity : ‘‘ I 
cannot see any necessity for prolonging this in- 
terview, Mr. Burroughs. It is of course your work 
to discover the truth or falsity of Louis’s story, but 
I cannot see that it in any way implicates or even 
interests me.” 

The girl was superb. Her beauty was enhanced 


174 


THE GOLD BAG 


by the sudden spirit she showed, and her flashing 
dark eyes suggested a baited animal at bay. Ap- 
parently she had reached the limit of her endurance, 
and was unwilling to be questioned further or drawn 
into further admissions. And yet, some inexplicable 
idea came to m.e that she was angry, not with me, 
but with the tangle in which I had remorselessly 
enmeshed her. Of a high order of intelligence, 
she knew perfectly w^ell that I was conscious of 
the fact that there Ayas a secret of some sort be- 
tween her and the valet. Her haughty disdain, 
I felt sure, was to convey the impression that 
though there might be a secret between them, it 
was no collusion or working together, and that 
though her understanding with the man was 
mysterious, it was in no way beneath her dignity. 
Her imperious air as she quietly left the room 
thrilled me anew, and I began to think that a 
woman who could assume the haughty demeanor of 
an empress might have chosen, as empresses had 
done before her, to commit crime. 

However, she went away, and the dark and 
stately library seemed to have lost its only spot 
of light and charm. I sat for a few minutes ponder- 
ing over it all, when I saw passing through the 
hall, the maid, Elsa. It suddenly occurred to me, 
that having failed with the mistress of the house. 


LOUIS’S STORY 


175 


I might succeed better with her maid, so I called 
the girl in. 

She came willingly enough, and though she 
seemed timid, she was not embarrassed or afraid. 

'‘I’m in authority here,” I said, "and I’m 
going to ask you some questions, which you must 
answer truthfully.” 

" Yes, sir,” she said, without any show of in- 
terest. 

"Have you been with Miss Lloyd long?” 

"Yes, sir; about four years, sir.” 

" Is she a kind mistress ? ” 

" Indeed she is, sir. She is the loveliest lady 
I ever worked for. I’d do anything for Miss Lloyd, 
that I would.” 

" Well, perhaps you can best serve her by telling 
all you know about the events of Tuesday night.” 

"But I don’t know anything, sir;” and Elsa’s 
eyes opened wide in absolutely unfeigned wonder- 
ment. 

" Nothing about the actual murder ; no, of 
course not. But I just want you to tell me a few 
things about some minor matters. Did you take 
the yellow flowers from the box that was sent to 
Miss Lloyd?” 

" Yes, sir; I always untie her parcels. And as 


176 


THE GOLD BAG 


she was at dinner, I arranged the flowers in a vase 
of water.’' 

'‘How many flowers were there?” 

For some reason this simple query disturbed 
the girl greatly. She flushed scarlet, and then she 
turned pale. She twisted the corner of her apron 
in her nervous fingers, and then said, only half 
audibly, “ I don’t know, sir.” 

“ Oh, yes, you do, Elsa,” I said in kindly 
tones, being anxious not to frighten her ; “ tell me 
how many there were. Were there not a dozen? ” 

“ I don’t know, sir ; truly I don’t. I didn’t 
count them at all.” 

It was impossible to disbelieve her; she v/as 
plainly telling the truth. And, too, why should she 
count the roses? The natural thing would be not 
to count them, but merely to put them in the vase 
as she had said. And yet, there was something 
about those flowers that Elsa knew and wouldn’t 
tell. Could it be that I was on the track of that 
missing twelfth rose? I knew, though perhaps 
Elsa did not, how many roses the florist had sent 
in that box. And unless Gregory Hall had ab- 
stracted one at the time of his purchase, the twelfth 
rose had been taken by some one else after the 
flowers reached the Crawford House. Could it 
have been Elsa, and was her perturbation only 


LOUIS’S STORY 


177 


because of a guilty conscience over a petty theft 
of a flower? But I realized I must question her 
adroitly* if I would find out these things. 

“Is Miss Lloyd fond of flowers?” I asked, 
casually. 

“ Oh, yes, sir, she always has some by her.” 

“And do you love flowers too, Elsa?” 

“Yes, sir.” But the quietly spoken answer, 
accompanied by a natural and straightforward look 
promised little for my new theory. 

“ Does Miss Lloyd sometimes give you some 
of her flowers ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir, quite often.” 

“ That is, if she’s there when they arrive. But 
if she isn’t there, and you open the box yourself, 
she wouldn’t mind if you took one or two blos- 
soms, would she? ” 

“ Oh, no, sir, she wouldn’t mind. Miss Lloyd’s 
awful kind about such things. But I wouldn’t 
often do it, sir.” 

“No, of course not. But you did happen to 
take one of those yellow roses, didn’t you, 
though ? ” 

I breathlessly awaited the answer, but to my 
surprise, instead of embarrassment the girl’s eyes 
flashed with anger, though she answered quietly 
enough, “ Well, yes, I did, sir.” 

12 


178 


THE GOLD BAG 


Ah, at last I was on the trail of that twelfth 
rose! But from the frank way in which the girl 
admitted having taken the flower, I greatly feared 
that the trail would lead to a commonplace ending. 

‘‘ What did you do with it ? I said quietly, 
endeavoring to make the question sound of little 
importance. 

I don’t want to tell you ; ” and the pout on 
her scarlet lips seemed more like that of a wilful 
child than of one guarding a guilty secret. 

Oh, yes, tell me, Elsa; ” and I even descended 
to a coaxing tone, to win the girl’s confidence. 

“Well, I gave it to that Louis.” 

“To Louis? and why do you call him that 
Louis?” 

“ Oh, because. I gave him the flower to wear 
because I thought he was going to take me out 
that evening. He had promised he would, at least 
he had sort of promised, and then, — and then ” 

“ And then he took another young lady,” I 
finished for her in tones of such sympathy and 
indignation that she seemed to think she had found 
a friend. 

“Yes,” she said, “ he went and took another 
girl riding on the trolley, after he had said he 
would take me.” 

“ Elsa,” I said suddenly, and I fear she thought 


LOUIS’S STORY 


179 


I had lost interest in her broken heart, did Louis 
wear that rose you gave him that night? ” 

“ Yes, the horrid man ! I saw it in his coat 
when he went away.” 

‘‘ And did he wear it home again ? ” 

“ How should I know ? ” Elsa tossed her head 
with what was meant to be a haughty air, but 
which was belied by the blush that mantled her 
cheek at her own prevarication. 

‘‘But you do know,” I insisted, gently; “did 
he wear it when he came home ? ” 

“ Yes, he did.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Because I looked in his room the next day, 
and I saw it there all withered. He had thrown 
it on the floor ! ” 

The tragedy in Elsa’s eyes at this awful re- 
lation of the cruelty of the sterner sex called for a 
spoken sympathy, and I said at once, and heartily: 

That was horrid of him ! If I were you Ed never 
give him another flower.” 

In accordance with the natural impulses of her 
sex, Elsa seemed pleased at my disapproval of 
Louis’s behavior, but she by no means looked as 
if she would never again bestow her favor upon 
him. She smiled and tossed her head, and seemed 
willing enough for further conversation, but for 


180 


THE GOLD BAG 


the moment I felt that I had enough food for 
thought. So I dismissed Elsa, having first ad- 
monished her not to repeat our conversation to 
any one. In order to make sure that I should be 
obeyed in this matter, I threatened her with some 
unknown terrors which the law would bring upon 
her if she disobeyed me. When I felt sure she 
was thoroughly frightened into secrecy conceniing 
our interview, I sent her away and began to cogi- 
tate on what she had told me. 

If Louis came to the house late that night, as 
by his own admission he did; if he went around 
the house on the side of the office, as the straying 
transfer seemed to me to prove; and if, at the 
time, he w^s wearing in his coat a yellow rose with 
petals similar to those found on the office floor the 
next morning, was not one justified in looking 
more deeply into the record of Louis the valet? 


XII 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 

Elsa had been gone but a few moments when 
Florence Lloyd returned to the library. I arose 
to greet her and marvelled at the change which 
had come over her. Surely here was a girl of 
a thousand moods. She had left me with an effect 
of hauteur and disdain; she returned, gentle and 
charming, almost humble. I could not understand 
it, and remained standing after she had seated her- 
self, awaiting developments. 

‘‘ Sit down, Mr. Burroughs,’’ she said, and 
her low, sweet voice seemed full of cordial invita- 
tion. I’m afraid I was rude to you, when I 
went away just now; and I want to say that 
if I can tell you anything you wish to know, I 
should be glad to dO' so.” 

I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. 
My heart was pounding with excitement at this 
new phase of the girl’s nature. For an instant 
it seemed as if she must have a personal kindly 
feeling toward me, and then my reason returned, 
and with a suddenly falling heart and slowing 
pulses, I realized that I was a fool, and that after 

181 


182 


THE GOLD BAG 


thinking over the disclosures Louis had made, 
Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it was to her 
best advantage* to curry favor with the detective. 
This knowledge came to me instinctively, and so 
I distrusted her gentle voice and winning smile, 
and hardening my heart against her, I resolved to 
turn this new mood of hers to my own advantage, 
and learn what I could while she was willing to 
converse. 

Fm glad of this opportunity. Miss Lloyd,'’ I 
said, “ for there are some phases of this affair that 
I want to discuss with you alone. Let us talk the 
matter over quietly. It is as well that you should 
know that there are some doubts felt as to the 
entire truth of the story you told at the inquest. I 
do not say this to frighten you,” I added, as the 
poor girl clasped her hands and gave me a look 
of dumb alarm ; ‘‘ but, since it is so, I want to do 
all I can to set the matter right. Do you remember 
exactly all that took place, to your knowledge, on 
the night of your uncle's death ? '' 

Yes,'' she replied, looking more frightened 
still. It was evident that she knew more than she 
had yet revealed, but I almost forgot my inquiry, 
so absorbed was I in watching her lovely face. It 
was even more exquisite in its terrified pallor than 
when the fleeting pink showed in her cheeks. 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


183 


Then,” I said, “ let us go over it. You heard 
your uncle go out at about eight o’clock and return 
about nine? ” 

“ Yes, I heard the front door open and close 
both times.” 

“ You and Mrs. Pierce being in the music- 
room, of course. Then, later, you heard a visitor 
enter, and again you heard him leave?” 

‘‘Yes— Mr. Porter.” 

“ Did you know it was Mr. Porter, at the 
time he was here?” 

“No; I think not. I didn’t think at all who 
it might be. Uncle Joseph often had men to 
call in the evening.” 

“ About what time did Mr. Porter leave?” 

“ A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert 
say, ‘ Good-night, sir,’ as he closed the door after 
him.” 

“ And soon after, you and Mrs. Pierce went 
upstairs ? ” 

“Yes; only a few minutes after.” 

“ And, later, Mrs. Pierce came to your room? ” 

“Yes; about half-past ten, I should .say; she 
came to get a book. She didn’t stay two minutes.” 

“ And after that, you went down-stairs again 
to speak to your uncle ? ” 

For the merest instant Miss Lloyd’s eyes closed 


184 


THE GOLD BAG 


and she swayed as if about to faint, but she re- 
gained her composure at once, and answered with 
some asperity: 

“ I did not. I have told you that I did not 
leave my room again that night.’' 

Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and 
though her full lower lip quivered it was with 
anger now, not fear. 

As I watched her, I wondered how I could have 
thought her more beautiful when pale. Surely 
with this glowing color she was at her glorious 
best. 

“ Then when did you drop the two rose petals 
there?” I went on, calmly enough, though my own 
heart was beating fast 

I did not drop them. They were left there by 
some intruder.” 

But, Miss Lloyd,” and I observed her closely, 
“ the petals were from a rose such as those Mr. 
Hall sent you that evening. The florist assures 
me there were no more such blossoms in West 
Sedgwick at that time. The fallen petals, then, 
were from one of your own roses, or ” 

"'Or?” asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed 
against the laces at her throbbing bosom. " Or ? ” 

“ Or,” I went on, from a rose worn by some 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


185 


one who had come out from New York on a late 
train.” 

For the moment I chose to ignore Louis’s rose 
for I wanted to learn anything Miss Lloyd could 
tell me. And, too, the yellow petals might have 
fallen from a flower in Hall’s coat after all. I 
thought it possible by suggesting this idea, to sur- 
prise from her some hint as to whether she had any 
suspicion of him. 

She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her 
chair, she closed her eyes, as if spent with a use- 
less struggle. 

‘‘ Wait a moment,” she said, putting out her 
hand with an imploring gesture. Wait a moment. 
Let me think. I will tell you all, but — wait ” 

With her eyes still closed, she lay back against 
the satin chair cushion, and I gazed at her, 
fascinated. 

I knew it] Then and there the knowledge 
came to me! Not her guilt, not her innocence. 
The crime seemed far away then, but I knew like 
a flash not only that I loved this girl, this Florence 
Lloyd, but that I should never love any one else. 
It mattered not that she was betrothed to another 
man ; the love that had suddenly sprung to life in 
my heart was such pure devotion that it asked no 
return. Guilty or innocent, I loved her. Guilty 


186 


THE GOLD BAG 


or innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire 
of her heart were toward another, she should never 
know or suspect my adoration for her. 

I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when 
her eyes opened I must discreetly turn my glance 
aside, but blessing every instant of opportunity thus 
given me. 

Her countenance, though troubled and drawn 
with anxiety, was so pure and sweet that I felt 
sure of her innocence. But it should be my work 
to prove that to the world. 

Suddenly her eyes flashed open; again her 
mood had changed. 

“ Mr. Burroughs,” she said, and there was 
almost a challenge in her tone, ‘^why do you ask 
me these things? You are a detective, you are 
here to find out for yourself, not to ask 
others to find out. I am innocent of my uncle’s 
death, of course, but when you cast suspicion on 
the man to whom I am betrothed, you cannot ex- 
pect me to help you confirm that suspicion. You 
have made me think by your remark about a 
man on a late train that you refer to Mr. Hall. 
Do you? ” 

This was a change of base, indeed. I was 
being questioned instead of doing the catechising 
myself. Very well; if it were my lady’s will to 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


187 


challenge me, I would meet her on her own ground. 

“ You took the hint very quickly,” I said. 
‘'Had you thought of such a possibility before?” 

" No, nor do I now. I will not.” Again she 
was the offended queen. " But since you have 
breathed the suggestion, you may not count on 
any help from me.” 

" Could you have helped me otherwise? ” I 
said, detaining her as she swept by. 

To this she made no answer, but again her 
face wore a troubled expression, and as she went 
slowly from the room, she left me with a strong 
conviction that she knew far more about Gregory 
Hall’s connection with the matter than she had 
told me. 

I sat alone for a few moments wondering what 
I had better do next. 

I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, 
and talk things over with him, but I thought it 
would be better to see Louis first, and settle up 
the matter of his rose more definitely. Accordingly 
I rang the bell, and when the parlor maid answered 
it, I asked her to send both Louis and Elsa to me 
in the library. 

I could see at once that these two were not 
friendly toward each other, and I hoped this fact 
would aid me in learning the truth from them. 


188 


THE GOLD BAG 


Now, Louis,” I began, ‘‘ you may as well tell 
me the truth about your home coming last Tuesday 
night. In the first place, you must admit that 
you were wearing in your coat one of the yellow 
roses which had been sent to Miss Lloyd.” 

No, no, indeed! ” declared Louis, giving Elsa 
a threatening glance, as if forbidding her to con- 
tradict him. 

''Nonsense, man,” I said; "don’t stand there 
and tell useless lies. It will not help you. The 
best thing you can do for yourself and for all con- 
cerned is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you 
don’t tell it to me now, you will have to tell it to 
Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a yellow rose 
and you wore it away that evening when you went 
to see your young lady. Now what became of 
that rose ? ” 

" I— I lost it, sir.” 

" No, you didn’t lose it. You wore it home 
again, and when you retired, you threw it on the 
floor, in your own room.” 

" No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him 
next day in my room, but cannot find him.” 

I almost laughed at the man’s ingenuousness. 
He contradicted his own story so unconsciously, 
that I began to think he was more of a simpleton 
than a villain. 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


189 


“ Of course you couldn’t find it,” I informed 
him, for it was taken from your room next day; 
and of course you didn’t look for it until after you 
had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest.” 

Louis’s easily read face proved my statement 
correct, but he glowered at Elsa, as he said : Who 
take him away? who take my rose from my 
room ? ” 

But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now 
you’re asking who took it away. Once again, let 
me advise you to tell the truth. You’re not at all 
successful in telling falsehoods. Now answer me 
this: When you came home Tuesday night, did 
you or did you not walk around the house past the 
office window ? ” 

‘‘ No, sir. I walked around the other side. 
I ” 

‘‘Stop, Louis! You’re not telling the truth. 
You did w^alk around by the office, and you dropped 
your transfer there. It never blew all around the 
house, as you have said it did.” 

A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man’s 
eyes, but he did not look at me. He shifted his 
gaze uneasily, as he repeated almost in a sing- 
song way, “ I go round the other side of the house.” 

It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness 


190 


THE GOLD BAG 


to the fact, I could not prove that he had gone by 
the office windows, though I was sure he had. 

But help came from an unexpected quarter. 

Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing 
conversation, but now she spoke up suddenly, and 
said : “ He did go round by the office, Mr. Bur- 
roughs, and I saw him.” 

I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl 
in a rage, but the effect of her speech on him was 
quite the reverse. He almost collapsed ; he 
trembled and turned white, and though he tried to 
speak, he made no sound. Surely this man was 
too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learn the 
secret of his knowledge. 

'' Tell me about it, Elsa,” I said, quietly. 

‘‘ I was looking out at my window, sir, at the 
back of the house; and I saw Louis come around 
the house, and he came around by the office side.” 

‘‘You’re positive of this, Elsa? you would 
swear to it? Remember, you are making an im- 
portant assertion.” 

“ I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly 
as he came around and entered at the back door.” 

“ You hear, Louis?” I said sternly. “ I believe 
Elsa’s statement rather than yours, for she tells a 
straight story, while you are rattled and agitated. 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


191 


and have all the appearance of concealing some- 
thing.” 

Louis looked helpless. He didn’t dare deny 
Elsa’s story, but he would not confirm it. At la.st 
he said, with a glance of hatred at the girl, '' Elsa, 
she tell that story to make the trouble for me.” 

There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, 
was jealous, and her pride had been hurt because 
Louis had taken the rose she gave him, and then 
had gone to call on another girl. But I had no 
reason to doubt Elsa’s statement, and I had every 
reason to doubt Louis’s. I tried to imagine what 
Louis’s experience had really been, and it suddenly 
occurred to me, that though innocent himself of 
real wrong, he had seen something in the office, 
or through the office windows that he wished to 
keep secret. I did not for a moment believe that 
the man had killed his master, so I concluded he 
was endeavoring to shield someone else. 

Louis,” I said, suddenly, I’ll tell you what 
you did. You went around by the office, you saw 
a light there late at night, and you naturally looked 
in. You saw Mr. Crawford there, and he was 
perhaps already killed. You stepped inside and 
discovered this, and then you came away, and said 
nothing about it, lest you yourself be suspected of 


192 


THE GOLD BAG 


the crime. Incidentally you dropped two petals 
from tile rose Elsa had given you.’' 

Louis’s answer to this accusation was a perfect 
s+orm of denials, expressed in voluble French and 
broken English, but all to the effect that it was 
not true, and that if he had seen his master dead, 
he would have raised an alarm. 

I saw that I had not yet struck the right idea, 
so I tried again. Then, Louis, you must have 
passed the office before Mr. Crawford was killed, 
which is really more probable. Then as you passed 
the window, you saw something or someone in the 
office, and you’re not willing to tell about it. Is 
this it?” 

This again brought forth only incoherent denial, 
and I could see that the man was becoming so 
rattled, it was difficult for him to speak clearly, had 
he desired to do so. 

Elsa,” I said, suddenly, you took that rose 
from Louis’s room. What did you do with it? ” 

“ I kept, — I mean, I don’t know what I did with 
it,” stammered tlie girl, blushing rosy red, and 
looking shyly at Louis. 

I felt sorry to disclose the poor girl’s little 
romance, for it was easy enough to see that she 
was in love with the fickle Frenchman, who evi- 
dently did not reciprocate her interest. He looked 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


193 


at her disdainfully, and she presented a pathetic 
picture of embarrassment. 

But the situation was too serious for me to 
consider Elsa’s sentiments, and I said, rather 
sternly : “ You do know where it is. You pre- 
served that rose as a souvenir. Go at once and 
fetch it.” 

It was a chance shot, for I was not at all certain 
that she had kept the withered flower, but dom- 
inated by my superior will she went away at once. 
She returned in a moment with the flower. 

Although withered, it was still in fairly good 
condition; quite enough so for me to see at a 
glance that no petals had been detached from it. 
The green calyx leaves clung around the bud in 
such a manner as to prove positively that the un- 
folding flower had lost no petal. This settled the 
twelfth mse. Wherever those tell-tale petals had 
come from, they were not from Louis’s rose. I 
gave the flower back to Elsa, and I said, “ take 
your flower, my girl, and go away now. I don’t 
want to question you any more for the present.” 

A little bewildered at her sudden dismissal, 
Elsa went away, and I turned my attention to the 
Frenchman. 

“ Louis,” I began, ‘‘ this must be settled here 
and now between us. Either you must tell me 
13 


194 


THE GOLD BAG 


what I want to know, or you must be taken before 
the district attorney, and be made to tell him^ I 
have proved to my own satisfaction that the rose 
petals in the office were not from the flower you 
wore. Therefore I conclude that you did not go 
into the office that night, but as you passed the 
window you did see someone in there with Mr. 
Crawford. The hour was later than Mr. Porter's 
visit, for he had already gone home, and Lambert 
had locked the front door and gone to bed. You 
came in later, and what you saw, or whom you 
saw through the office window so surprised you, or 
interested you, that you paused to look in, and 
there you dropped your transfer.” 

Thougii Louis didn’t speak, I could see at once 
that I was on the right track at last. The man 
was shielding somebody. He was unwilling to tell 
what he had seen, lest it inculpate someone. Could 
it be Gregory Hall? If Hall had come out on a 
late train, and Louis had seen him there, he might, 
perhaps under Hall’s coercion, be keeping the fact 
secret. Again, if a strange woman with the gold 
bag had been in the office, that also would have 
attracted Louis’s attention. Again, and here my 
heart almost stopped beating, could he have seen 
Florence Lloyd in there? But a second thought 
put me at ease again. Surely to have seen Florence 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


195 


in there, would have been so usual and natural a 
sight that it could not have caused him anxiety. 
And yet, again, for him to have seen Florence in 
her uncle’s office, would have proved to him that 
the story she told at the inquest was false. I must 
get out of him the knowledge he possessed, if I 
had to resort to a sort of third degree. But I 
might manage it by adroit questioning. 

I quite understand, Louis, tliat you are shield- 
ing some person. But let me tell you that it is 
useless. It is much wiser for you to tell me all 
you know, and then I can go to work intelligently 
to find the man who murdered Mr. Crawford. You 
want me to find him, do you not ? ” 

Louis seemed to have found his voice again. 
‘‘ Yes, sir, of course he must be found. Of course 
I want him found, — the miscreant, the villain! but, 
Mr. Burroughs, sir, what I have see in the office 
makes nothing to your search. I simply see Mr. 
Crawford alive and well. And I pass by. That 
fool girl Elsa, she tell you that I pass by, so I 
may say so. But I see nothing in the office to 
alarm me, and if I drop my transfer there, it is 
but because I think of him as no consequence, and 
I let him go.” 

‘‘ Louis,” and I looked him straight in the eye, 
‘‘ all that sounds straightforw^ard and true. But, 


196 


THE GOLD BAG 


if you saw notliing in the office to surprise or alarm 
you, why did you at first deny having passed by 
the office at all? ” 

The man had no answer for this. He was not 
ingenious in inventing falsehood, and he stood look- 
ing helpless and despairing. I perceived I should 
have to go on with my questioning. 

“ Was it a man or a woman you saw in there 
with Mr. Crawford ? 

I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master.’’ 

That wouldn’t do, then. As long, as I asked him 
direct questions he could answer falsely. I must 
trip him up in some roundabout way. 

“ Yes,” I said pleasantly, “ I understand that. 
And what was Mr. Crawford doing? ” 

He sat at his desk ; ” and Louis spoke slowly, 
and picked his words with care. 

“ Was he writing ? ” 

“ No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing.” 

I now knew he was not writing, for the truth 
had slipped out before the man could frame up his 
lie. I believed I was going to learn something 
at last, if I could make the man tell. Surely 
the testimony of one who saw Joseph Crawford 
late that night was of value, and though that 
testimony was difficult to obtain, it was well worth 
Ahe effort 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


197 


‘‘And was Mr. Hall at his desk also?” 

Louis stared at me. “ Mr. Hall, he was in 
New York that night.” This was said so simply 
and unpremeditatedly, that I was absolutely cer- 
tain it was not Hall whom Louis had seen there. 

“ Oh, yes, of course, so he was,” I said lightly; 
“ and Mr. Crawford was writing, was he ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” spoken with the dogged scowl which 
I was beginning to learn always accompanied 
Louis’s untruthful statements. 

And now I decided to put my worst fear to 
the test and have it over with. It must be done, and 
I felt sure I could do it, but oh, how I dreaded it! 

“Did Mr. Crawford look up or see you?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“And didn’t Miss Florence see you, either?” 

“ No, sir.” 

It was out. The mere fact that Louis answered 
that question so calmly and unconsciously proved 
he was telling the truth. But what a truth! for 
it told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd 
was in the office with her unde, that Louis had 
seen her, but that she had not seen him. I had 
learned the truth from my reading of the man’s 
expression and demeanor, and though it made my 
heart sink, I didn’t for a moment doubt that it 
was the truth. 


198 


THE GOLD BAG 


Of course Louis realized the next instant what 
he had done, and again he began his stammering 
denials. “ Of course, Miss Lloyd do not see me 
for she is not there. How can she see me, then? 
I tell you my master was alone ! ’’ 

Had I been the least uncertain, this would have 
convinced me that I was right. For Louis’s voice 
rose almost to a shriek, so angry was he with him- 
self for having made the slip. 

Give it up, Louis,” I said; ‘‘ you have let out 
the truth, now be quiet. You couldn’t help it, 
man, you were bound to trip yourself up sooner 
or later. You put up a good fight for Miss Florence, 
and now that I understand why you told your false- 
hoods, I can’t help admiring your chivalry. You 
saw Miss Lloyd there that evening, you heard her 
next day at the inquest deny having been in the 
office in the evening. So, in a way, it was very 
commendable on your part to avoid contradicting 
her testimonies with your own. But you are not 
clever enough, Louis, to carry out that deceit to 
the end. And now that you have admitted that 
you saw Miss Lloyd there, you can best help her 
cause, and best help me to help her cause, by telling 
me all about it. For rest assured, Louis, that I 
am quite as anxious to prove Miss Lloyd’s in- 
nocence as you can possibly be, and the only way 


LOUIS’S CONFESSION 


im 


to accomplish that end, is to leam as much of the 
truth as I possibly can. Now, tell me what she 
was doing.” 

‘‘ Only talking to her uncle, sir.” Louis had the 
air of a defeated man. He had tried to shield Miss 
Lloyd’s name and had failed. Now he spoke sul- 
lenly, and as if his whole cause were lost. 

‘‘And Mr. Crawford was talking to her?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ He was not writing, then ? ” 

“No, sir.” 

“ Did they seem to be having an amicable con- 
versation ? ” 

Louis hesitated, and his hesitation was sufficient 
answer. 

“ Never mind,” I said, “ you need not tell me 
more. In fact, I would prefer to get the rest of 
the story from Miss Lloyd, herself.” 

Louis looked startled. “ Don’t tell Miss Lloyd 
I told you this,” he begged ; “ I have try very hard 
not to tell you.” 

“ I know you tried hard, Louis, not to tell me, 
and it was not your fault that I wrung the truth 
from you. I will not tell Miss Lloyd that you told 
me, unless it should become necessary, and I do 
not think it will. Go away now, Louis, and do 
not discuss this matter with anybody at all. And, 


200 


THE GOLD BAG 


also, do not think for a moment that you have been 
disloyal in telling me that you saw Miss Lloyd. As 
I say, you couldn't help it. I should simply have 
kept at you until I made you tell, so you need not 
blame yourself in the matter at all.'^ 

Louis went away, and though I could see that 
he believed what I said, he had a dejected air, and 
I couldn't help feeling sorry for the man who had 
so inadvertently given me the knowledge that must 
be used against the beautiful girl who had herself 
given untrue testimony. 


XIII 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 

After Louis left me, I felt as if a dead weight 
had fallen on my heart. Florence Lloyd had gone 
down to her uncle’s office late that night, and yet 
at the inquest she had testified that she had not 
done so. And even to me, when talking quietly 
and alone, she had repeated her false assertion. This 
much I knew, but why she had done it, I did not 
know. Not until I was forced to do so, would I 
believe that even her falsehood in the matter meant 
that she herself was guilty. There must be some 
other reason for her mendacity. 

Well, I would find out this reason, and if it 
were not a creditable one to her, I would still 
endeavor to do all I could for her. I longed to 
see her, and try if perhaps kind and gentle urging 
might not elicit the truth. But she had left me 
with such an air of haughty disdain, I hesitated 
to send for her again just now. And as it was 
nearly dinner time, I resolved to go back to my 
hotel. 

On the way, I came to the conclusion that it 
would do no harm to have a talk with Parmalee. 

«oi 


202 


THE GOLD BAG 


I had not much confidence in his detective ability, 
but he knew the people better than I did, and 
might be able to give me information of some 
sort. 

After I reached the Sedgwick Arms I telephoned 
Parmalee to come over and dine with me, and he 
readily consented. 

During dinner I told him all that I had learned 
from Elsa and Louis. Of course I had no right 
to keep this knowledge to myself, and, too, I wanted 
Parmalee’s opinion on the situation as it stood at 
present. 

‘‘ It doesn’t really surprise me,” he said, “ for 
I thought all along, Miss Lloyd was not telling 
the truth. I’m not yet ready to say that I think 
she killed her uncle, although I must say it seems 
extremely probable. But if she didn’t commit the 
deed, she knows perfectly well who did.” 

Meaning Hall? ” 

‘‘ No, I don’t mean Hall. In fact I don’t mean 
any one in particular. I think Miss Lloyd was the 
instigator of the crime, and practically carried out 
its commission, but she may have had an assisting 
agent for the actual deed.” 

Oh, how you talk ! It quite gives me the 
shivers even to think of a beautiful young woman 
being capable of such thoughts or deeds.” 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 


203 


But, you see, Burroughs, that’s because you 
are prejudiced in favor of Miss Lloyd. Women are 
capable of crime as well as men, and sometimes 
they’re even more clever in the perpetration of it. 
And you must admit if ever a woman were capable 
of crime. Miss Lloyd is of that type.” 

I have to agree to that, Parmalee,” I ad- 
mitted ; she certainly shows great strength of 
character.” 

“ She shows more than that ; she has indom- 
itable will, unflinching courage, and lots of pluck. 
If, for any reason, she made up her mind to kill 
a man, she’d find a way to do it.” 

This talk made me cringe all over, but I couldn’t 
deny it, for so far as I knew Florence Lloyd, 
Parmalee’s words were quite true. 

“ All right,” I said, '' I’ll grant her capability, 
but that doesn’t prove a thing. I don’t believe that 
girl is guilty, and I hope to prove her innocence.” 

‘‘ But look at the evidence, man ! She denied 
her presence in the room, yet we now know she was 
there. She denied the ownership of the gold bag, 
yet probably she was also untruthful in that matter. 
She is a woman of a complex nature, and though I 
admire her in many ways, I shouldn’t care to have 
much to do with her.” 

Let us leave out the personal note, Parmalee,” 


204 


THE GOLD BAG 


I said, for I was angry at his attitude toward 
Florence. 

“ All right. Don’t you think for a moment 
that I don’t see where you stand with regard to 
the haughty beauty, but that’s neither here nor 
there.” 

“ Indeed it isn’t,” I returned ; “ and whatever 
may be my personal feeling toward Miss Lloyd, 
I can assure you it in no way influences my work 
on this case.” 

“ I believe you, old man ; and so I’m sure you 
will agree with me that we must follow up the 
inquiry as to Miss Lloyd’s presence in the offlce 
that night. She must be made to talk, and perhaps 
it would be best to tell Goodrich all about it, and 
let him push the matter.” 

Oh, no,” I cried involuntarily. “ Don’t set 
him on the track of the poor girl. That is, 
Parmalee, let me talk to her again, first. Now that 
I know she was down there that night, I think I 
can question her in a little different manner, and 
persuade her to own the truth. And, Parmalee, 
perhaps she was down there because Hall was 
there.” 

“ Hall ! He was in New York.” 

So he says, but why should he speak the 
truth any more than Miss Lloyd?” 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 


205 


'‘You mean they may both be implicated?’’ 

“Yes; or he may have used her as a tool.” 

“ Not Florence Lloyd. She’s nobody’s tool.” 

“ Any woman might be a tool at the command 
of the man she loves. But,” I went on, with an air 
of conviction which was not entirely genuine, “Miss 
Lloyd doesn’t love Mr. Hall.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” returned Parmalee ; 
“ you can’t tell about a woman like Florence Lloyd. 
If she doesn’t love him, she’s at least putting up 
a bluff of doing so.” 

“ I believe it is a bluff, though I’m sure I don’t 
know why she should do that.” 

“On the other hand, why shouldn’t she? For 
some reason she’s dead set on marrying him, ready 
to give up her fortune to do so, if necessary. He 
must have some sort of a pretty strong hold on 
her.” 

“ I admit all that, and yet I can’t believe she 
loves him. He’s such a commonplace man.” 

“ Commonplace doesn’t quite describe him. And 
yet Gregory Hall, with all the money in the world, 
could never make himself distinguished or worth 
w^hile in any way.” 

“ No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see 
in a man like that, to make her so determined to 
marry him ? ” 


206 


THE GOLD BAG 


I don’t think she is determined, except that 
Hall has some sort of hold over her, — a promise or 
something, — that she can’t escape.” 

My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was 
not in love with Hall, but I did not allow myself 
to dwell on that point, for I was determined to go 
on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward 
her. 

‘‘ You see,” Parmalee went on, ‘‘ you suspect 
Hall, only because you’re prejudiced against him.” 

“ Good gracious ! ” I exclaimed ; that’s an 
awful thing to say, Parmalee. The idea of a de- 
tective suspecting a man, merely because he doesn’t 
admire his personality! And besides, it isn’t true. 
If I suspect Hall, it’s because I think he had a 
strong motive, a possible opportunity, and more 
than all, because he refuses to tell where he was 
Tuesday night.” 

“ But that’s just the point, Burroughs. A man 
who’ll commit murder would fix up his alibi first 
of all. He would know that his refusal to tell 
his whereabouts would be extremely suspicious. 
No, to my mind it’s Hall’s refusal to tell that 
stamps him as innocent.” 

'‘Then, in that case, it’s the cleverest kind of 
an alibi he could invent, for it stamps him innocent 
at once.” 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 207 

Oh, come, now, that’s going pretty far ; 
but I will say, Burroughs, that you haven’t the 
least shred of proof against Hall, and you know 
it. Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and even a 
strong desire that he should be the villain, are all 
very well. But they won’t go far as evidence in a 
court of law.” 

I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, 
and that so far I had no proof whatever that 
Gregory Hall was at all implicated in Mr. Craw- 
ford’s death. To be sure he might have worn a 
yellow rose, and he might have brought the late 
newspaper, but there was no evidence to connect 
him with those clues, and too, there was the gold 
bag. It was highly improbable that that should 
have been brought to the office and left there by a 
man. 

However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not 
to carry the matter to Mr. Goodrich until I had 
had one more interview with Miss Lloyd, and I 
promised to undertake that the next morning. 

After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some 
very gloomy reflections. Everything seemed to 
point one way. Every proof, every suspicion and 
every hint more or less implicated Miss Lloyd. 

But the more I realized this, the more I deter- 
mined to do all I could for her, and as to do this, 


208 


THE GOLD BAG 


I must gain her confidence, and even liking, I re- 
solved to approach the subject the next day with 
the utmost tactfulness and kindliness, hoping by 
this means to induce the truth from her. 

The next morning I started on my mission ^ 
with renewed hopefulness. Reaching the Crawford j 
house, I asked for Miss Lloyd, and I was shown If 
into a small parlor to wait for her. It was a sort j 
of morning room, a pretty little apartment that I 
had not been in before; and it was so much more 
cheerful and pleasant than the stately library, I 
couldn’t help hoping that Miss Lloyd, too, woulcf 
prove more amenable than she had yet been. ^ 

She soon came in, and though I was beginning ' 
to get accustomed to the fact that she was a creature 
of variable moods, I was unprepared for this one. 
Her hauteur had disappeared; she was apparently 
in a sweet and gentle frame of mind. Her large 
dark eyes were soft and gentle, and though her 
red lips quivered, it was not with anger or disdain 
as they had done the day before. She wore a 
plain white morning gown, and a long black neck- | 
lace of small beads. The simplicity of this costume 
suited her well, and threw into relief her own 
rich coloring and striking beauty. '■ 

She greeted me more pleasantly than she had ,f 
ever done before, and I couldn’t help feeling that 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 


209 


the cheerful sunny little room had a better effect 
on her moods than the darker furnishings of the 
library. 

I wish,” I began, “ that we had not to talk 
of anything unpleasant this morning. I wish there 
w^ere no such thing as untruth or crime in the 
world, and that I were calling on you, as an 
acquaintance, — as a friend might call.” 

I wish so, too,” she responded, and as she 
flashed a glance at me, I had a glimpse of what it 
might mean to be friends with Florence Lloyd 
without the ugly shadow between us that now was 
spoiling our tete-a-tete. 

Just that fleeting glance held in it the promise 
of all that was attractive, charming and delight- 
ful in femininity. It was as if the veil of the great, 
gloomy sorrow had been lifted for a moment, and 
she was again an untroubled, merry girl. It seemed 
too, as if she wished that we could be together under 
pleasanter circumstances and could converse on 
subjects of less dreadful import. However, all 
these thoughts that tumultuously raced through my 
mind, must be thrust aside in favor of the business 
in hand. 

So though I hated to, I began at once. 

“ I am sorry. Miss Lloyd, to doubt your word, 
but I want to tell you myself rather than to have 
14 


210 


THE GOLD BAG 


you learn it from others that I have a witness 
who has testified to your presence in your uncle’s 
office that fateful Tuesday night, although you have 
said you didn’t go down there.” 

As I had feared, the girl turned 'white and 
shivered as if with a dreadful apprehension. 

“ Who is the witness ? ” she said. 

I seemed to read her mind, and I felt at once 
that to her, the importance of what I had said 
depended largely on my answer to this question, 
and I paused a moment to think what this could 
mean. And then it flashed across me that she 
was afraid I would say the witness was Gregory 
Hall. I became more and more convinced that she 
was shielding Hall, and I felt sure that when she 
learned it was not he, she would feel relieved. 
However, I had promised Louis not to let her 
know that he had told me of seeing her, unless it 
should be necessary. 

‘‘ I think I won’t tell you that ; but since you 
were seen in the office at about eleven o’clock, will 
you not tell me, — I assure you it is for your own 
best interests, — what you were doing there, and 
why you denied being there? ” 

First tell me the name of your informer; ” and 
so great was her agitation that she scarcely breathed 
the words. 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 211 


“ I prefer not to do so, but I may say it is a 
reliable witness and one who gave his evidence 
most unwillingly.” 

“ Well, if you will not tell me who he was, will 
you answer just one question about him? Was it 
Mr. Hall?” 

No; it was not Mr. Hall.” 

As I had anticipated, she showed distinctly her 
relief at my answer. Evidently she dreaded to 
hear Hall’s name brought into the conversation. 

‘‘ And now. Miss Lloyd, I ask you earnestly 
and with the best intent, please to tell me the de- 
tails of your visit to Mr. Crawford that night in 
his office.” 

She sat silent for a moment, her eyes cast 
down, the long dark lashes lying on her pale cheeks. 
I waited patiently, for I knew she was struggling 
with a strong emotion of some sort, and I feared 
if I hurried her, her gentle mood would disappear, 
and she might again become angry or haughty of 
demeanor. 

At last she spoke. The dark lashes slowly 
raised, and she seemed even more gentle than at 
first. 

“ I must tell you,” she said. ‘‘ I see I must. 
But don’t repeat it, unless it is necessary. Detectives 


^12 


THE GOLD BAG 


have to know things, but they don’t have to tell 
them, do they ? ” 

We never repeat confidences, Miss Lloyd,” I 
replied, “ except when necessary to further the cause 
of right and justice.” 

** Truly? Is that so? ” 

She brightened up so much that I began to hope 
she had only some trifling matter to tell of. 

Well, then,” she went on, “ I will tell you, 
for I know it need not be repeated in the furtherance 
of justice. I did go down to my uncle’s office 
that night, after Mrs. Pierce had been to my room ; 
and it was I — it must have been I — who dropped 
those rose petals.” 

“ And left the bag,” I suggested. 

No,” she said, and her face looked perplexed, 
but not confused. ‘‘ No, the bag is not mine, and 
I did not leave it there. I know nothing of it, 
absolutely nothing. But I did go to the office at 
about eleven o’clock. I had a talk with my uncle, 
and I left him there a half-hour later — alive and 
well as when I went in.” 

‘‘ Was your conversation about your engage- 
ment? ” 

“ Yes.” 

'' Was it amicable? ” 

No, it was not ! Uncle Joseph was more angry 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 


213 


than I had ever before seen him. ‘ He declared he 
intended to make a new will the next morning, 
which would provide only a small income for me. 
He said this was not revenge or punishment for 

my loyalty to Mr. Hall, but — but ” 

** But what ? ” I urged gently. 

It scarcely seems loyal to Mr. Hall for me to 
say it,’’ she returned, and the tears were in her eyes. 

But this is all confidential. Well, Uncle Joseph 
said that Gregory only wanted to marry me for my 
fortune, and that the new will would prove this. 
Of course I denied that Mr. Hall was so mercenary, 
and then we had a good deal of an altercation. 
But it was not very different from many dis- 
cussions we had had on the same subject, only 
Uncle was more decided, and said he had asked 
Mr. Randolph to come the next morning and draw 
up the new will. I left him still angry — he wouldn’t 
even say good-night to me — and now I blame my- 
self for not being more gentle, and trying harder 
to make peace. But it annoyed me to have him 

call Gregory mercenary ” 

Because you knew it was true,” I said quietly. 
She turned white to the very lips. ‘‘ You are 
unnecessarily impertinent,” she said. 

I am,” I agreed. “ I beg your pardon.” But 


214 


THE GOLD BAG 


I had discovered that she did realize her lover’s 
true nature. 

And then you went to your room, and stayed 
there?'' I went on, with a meaning emphasis on 
the last clause. 

Yes,” she said; and so, you see, what I have 
told you casts no light on the mystery. I only told 
you so as to explain the bits of the yellow rose. I 
feared, from what you said, that Mr. Hall’s name 
might possibly be brought into discussion.” 

Why, he was not in West Sedgwick that 
night,” I said. 

“ Where was he? ” she countered quickly. 

“ I don’t know. He refuses to tell. Of course 
you must see that his absolute refusal to tell where 
he was that night is, to say the least, an unwise 
proceeding.” 

‘‘ He won’t even tell me where he was,” she 
said, sighing. But it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t 
here.” 

“ That’s just it,” I rejoined. If he was not 
here, it would be far better for him to tell where 
he really was. For the refusal to tell raises a 
question that will not be downed, except by an alibi. 
I don’t want to be cruel. Miss Lloyd, but I must 
make you see that as the inquiry proceeds, the 
actions of both Mr. Hall and yourself will be sub- 


MISS LLOYD’S CONFIDENCE 


215 


jected to very close scrutiny, and though perhaps 
undue attention will be paid to trifles, yet the trifles 
must be explained.” 

I was so sorry for the girl, that, in my effort 
not to divulge my too great sympathy, I probably 
used a sterner tone than I realized. 

At any rate, I had wakened her at last to a 
sense of the danger that threatened her and her 
lover, and now, if she would let me, I would do 
all in my power to save them both. But I must 
know all she could tell me. 

“When did Mr. Hall leave you?” I asked. 

“You mean the day — last Tuesday?” 

“ Yes?” 

“ He left here about half-past five. He had 
been in the office with Uncle Joseph all the after- 
noon, and at five o’clock he came in here for a 
cup of tea with me. He almost always comes in 
at tea-time. Then he left about half-past five, 
saying he was going to New York on the six 
o’clock train.” 

“For what purpose?” 

“ I never ask him questions like that. I knew 
he was to attend to some business for Uncle the 
next day, but I never ask him what he does even- 
ings when he is in the city, or at any time when 
he is not with me.” 


216 


THE GOLD BAG 


But surely one might ask such questions of 
the man to whom she is betrothed/' 

Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of 
hauteur which always effectually stopped my im- 
pertinence." 

“ It is not my habit," she said. ‘‘ What Gregory 
wishes me to know he tells me of his own accord." 


XIV 


MR. PORTER’S VIEWS 

I BEGAN on a new tack. 

Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, 
and say you did not come down-stairs again, after 
going up at ten o’clock ? ” 

Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, ap- 
pealing look came into her eyes, and she looked 
to me like a lovely child afraid of unseen dangers. 

I was afraid,” she confessed. ‘‘ Yes, truly, I 
was afraid that they would think I had something 
to do with the — with Uncle Joseph’s death. And 
as I didn’t think it could do any good to tell of 
my little visit to him, I just said I didn’t come 
down. Oh, I know it was a lie — I know it was 
wicked — but I was so frightened, and it was such 
an easy way out of it, just to deny it.” 

“ And why have you confessed it to me now ? ” 
Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. 

“ I told you why,” she said : “ so you would 
know where the rose leaves came from, and not 
suspect Gregory.” 

“ Do yoti suspect him ? ” 

N-no, of course not. But others might.’" 

217 


218 


THE GOLD BAG 


It is impossible to describe the dismay that 
smote my heart at the hesitation of this answer. It 
was more than hesitation. It was a conflict of un- 
spoken impulses, and the words, when they wer^ 
uttered, seemed to carry hidden meaning’s, and to 
my mind they carried the worst and most sinister 
meaning conceivable. 

To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to 
collusion between Florence Lloyd, whom I already 
loved, and Gregory Hall, whom I already distrusted 
and disliked. Guilty collusion between these two 
would explain everything. Theirs the motive, theirs 
the opportunity, theirs the denials and false witness- 
ing. The gold bag, as yet, remained unexplained, 
but the yellow rose petals and the late newspaper 
could be accounted for if Hall had come out on the 
midnight train, and Florence had helped him to 
enter and leave the house unseen. 

Bah ! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold 
bag remained as proof against this horrid theory. 
I would pin my faith to the gold bag, and through 
its presence in the room, I would defy suspicions 
of the two people I had resolved to protect. 

“What do you think about the gold bag?” I 
asked. 

“ I don’t know what to think. I hate to accuse 
Uncle Joseph of such a thing, but it seems as if 


MR. PORTER’S VIEWS 


219 


some woman friend of his must have come to the 
office after I left. The long French windows were 
open — it was a warm night, you know — and any 
one could have come and gone unseen.” 

“ The bag wasn’t there when you were there ? ” 

“ I’m sure it was not ! That is, not in sight, 
and Uncle Joseph was not the sort of man to 
have such a thing put away in his desk as a souvenir, 
or for any other reason.” 

Forgive the insinuation, but of course you 
could not know positively that Mr. Crawford would 
not have a feminine souvenir in his desk.” 

She looked up surprised. “ Of course I could 
not be positive,” she said, “ but it is difficult to 
imagine anything sentimental connected with Uncle 
Joseph.” 

She almost smiled as she said this, for apparently 
the mere idea was amusing, and I had a flashing 
glimpse of what it must be to see Florence Lloyd 
smile! Well it should not be my fault, or due to 
my lack of exertion, if the day did not come when 
she should smile again, and I promised myself I 
should be there to see it. But stifling these thoughts, 
I brought my mind back to duty. Drawing from 
my pocket the photograph I had found in Mr. 
Crawford’s desk, I showed it to her. 

“ In LTncle’s desk ! ” she exclaimed. ‘‘ This does 


no 


THE GOLD BAG 


surprise me. I had no idea Uncle Joseph had re- 
ceived a photograph from a lady with an affectionate 
message, too. Are you quite sure it belonged 
to him? ” 

“ I only know that we found it in his desk, 
hidden beneath some old letters and papers.” 

“Were the letters from this lady?” 

“ No ; in no case could we find a signature 
that agreed with these initials.” 

“ Here’s your chance, Mr. Burroughs,” and 
again Florence Lloyd’s dimples nearly escaped the 
bondage which held them during these sad days. 
“If you’re a detective, you ought to gather at once 
from this photograph and signature all the details 
about this lady; who she is, and what she had to 
do with Uncle Joseph.” 

“ I wish I could do so,” I replied, “ but you 
see. I’m not that kind of detective. I have a friend, 
Mr. Stone, who could do it, and would tell you, as 
you say, everything about that lady, merely by 
looking at her picture.” 

As a case in point, I told her then and there 
the story of Fleming Stone’s wonderful deductions 
from the pair of muddy shoes we had seen in a 
hotel one morning. 

“ But you never proved that it was true? ” she 


MR. PORTER’S VIEWS 


221 


asked, her dark eyes sparkling with interest, and 
her face alight with animation. 

No, but it wasn’t necessary. Stone’s deduc- 
tions are always right, and if not, you know it is 
the exception that proves the rule.” 

‘‘ Well, let us try to deduce a little from this 
picture. I don’t believe for a moment, that Uncle 
Joseph had a romantic attachment for any lady, 
though these words on the back of the picture do 
seem to indicate it.” 

‘‘ Well, go on,” said I, so carried away by the 
fascination of the girl, when she had for a moment 
seemed to forget her troubles, that I wanted to 
prolong the moment. Go ahead, and see what in- 
ferences you can draw from the photograph.” 

‘‘ I think she is about fifty years old,” Florence 
began, “ or perhaps fifty-five. What do you think? ” 
I wouldn’t presume to guess a lady’s age,” I 
returned, '' and beside, I want you to try your 
powers on this. You may be better at deductions 
than I am. I have already confessed to you my 
inability in that direction.” 

Well,” she went on, “ I think this lady is 
rather good-looking, and I think she appreciates 
the fact.” 

“ The first is evident on the face of it, and the 


222 


THE GOLD BAG 


second is a universal truth, so you haven’t really 
deduced much as yet.” 

No, that’s so,” and she pouted a little. “ But 
at any rate, I can deduce more about her dress 
than you can. The picture was taken, or at least 
that costume was made, about a year ago, for that 
is the style that was worn then.” 

Marvellous, Holmes, marvellous ! ” 

She flashed me a glance of understanding and 
appreciation, but undaunted, went on : “ The gown 
also was not made by a competent modiste, but was 
made by a dressmaker in the house, who came in 
by the day. The lady is of an economical turn of 
mind, because the lace yoke of the gown is an old 
one, and has even been darned to make it presentable 
to use in the new gown.” 

“ Now that is deduction,” I said admiringly ; 
“ the only trouble is, that it doesn’t do us much 
good. Somehow I can’t seem to fancy this good- 
looking, economical, middle-aged lady, who has her 
dressmaking done at home, coming here in the 
middle of the night and killing Mr. Crawford.” 

No, I can’t, either,” said Florence gravely ; 
but then, I can’t imagine any one else doing that, 
either. It seems like a horrible dream, and I can’t 
realize that it really happened to Uncle Joseph.” 

“ But it did happen, and we must find the guilty 


MR. PORTER’S VIEWS 


223 


person. I think with you, that this photograph 
is of little value as a clue, and yet it may turn out 
to be. . And yet I do think the gold bag is a clue. 
You are quite sure it isn’t yours ? ” 

Perhaps it was a mean way to put the question, 
but the look of indignation she gave me helped to 
convince me that the bag was not hers. 

‘‘ I told yAu it was not,” she said, “ but,” and 
her eyes fell, since I have confessed to one false- 
hood, of course you cannot believe my statement.” 

‘‘ But I do believe it,” I said, and I did, thor- 
oughly. 

“ At any rate, it is a sort of proof,” she said, 
smiling sadly, “ that any one who knows anything 
about women’s fashions can tell you that it is not 
customary to carry a bag of that sort when one is 
in the house and in evening dress. Or rather, in 
a negligee costume, for I had taken off my evening 
gowm and wore a tea-gown. I should not think of 
going anywhere in a tea-gown, and carrying a 
gold bag.” 

The girl had seemingly grown almost light- 
hearted. Her speech was punctuated by little smiles, 
and her half sad, half gay demeanor bewitched me. 
I felt sure that what little suggestion of light- 
heartedness had come into her mood had come be- 
cause she had at last confessed the falsehood she 


224 


THE GOLD BAG 


had told, and her freed conscience gave her a little 
buoyancy of heart. 

But there were still important questions to be 
asked, so, though unwillingly, I returned to the 
old subject. 

Did you see your uncle’s will while you were 
there ? ” 

“ No; he talked about it, but did not show it 
to me.” 

Did he talk about it as if it were still in his 
possession ? ” 

Why, yes ; I think so. That is, he said he 
would make a new one unless I gave up Gregory. 
That implied that the old one was still in existence, 
though he didn’t exactly say so.” 

Miss Lloyd, this is important evidence. I 
must tell you that I shall be obliged to repeat much 
of it to the district attorney. It seems to me to 
prove that your uncle did not himself destroy the 
will.” 

“ He might have done so after I left him.” 

“ I can’t think it, for it is not in scraps in the 
waste-basket, nor are there any paper-ashes in the 
grate.” 

Well, then,” she rejoined, if he didn’t destroy 
it, it may yet be found.” 


MR* PORTER^S VIEWS 


225 


“You wish that very much?” I said, almost 
involuntarily. 

“ Oh, I do! ” she exclaimed, clasping- her hands. 
“ Not so much for myself as ” 

She paused, and I finished the sentence for her : 
“ For Mr. Hall.” 

She looked angry again, but said nothing. 

“ Well, Miss Lloyd,” I said, as I rose to go, 
“ I am going to do everything in my power in 
your behalf and in behalf of Mr. Hall. But I tell you 
frankly, unless you will both tell me the truth, and 
the whole truth, you will only defeat my efforts, 
and work your own undoing.” 

I had to look away from her as I said this, for 
I could not look on that sweet face* and say any- 
thing even seemingly harsh or dictatorial. 

Her lip quivered. “ I will do my best,” she said 
tremblingly. “ I will try to make Mr. Hall tell 
where he was that night. I will see you again after 
I have talked with him.” 

More collusion! I said good-by rather curtly, 
I fear, and went quickly away from that perilous 
presence. 

Truly, a nice detective, I! Bowled over by a 
fair face, I was unable to think clearly, to judge 
logically, or to work honestly ! 

Well, I would go home and think it out by 

15 


226 


THE GOLD BAG 


myself. Away from her influence I surely would 
regain my cool-headed methods of thought. 

When. I reached the inn, I found Mr. Lemuel 
Porter there waiting for me. 

''How do you do, Mr. Burroughs?’' he said 
pleasantly. " Have you time for a half-hour’s 
chat? ” 

It was just what I wanted. A talk with this 
clear-thinking man would help me, indeed, and I 
determined to get his opinions, even as I was ready 
to give him mine. 

"Well, what do you think about it all?” I 
inquired, after we were comfortably settled at a 
small table on the shaded veranda, which was a 
popular gathering-place at this hour. But in our 
corner we were in no danger from listening ears, 
and I awaited his reply with interest. 

His eyes smiled a little, as he said : 

" You know the old story of the man who said 
he wouldn’t hire a dog and then do his own bark- 
ing. Well, though I haven’t ' hired ’ you, I would 
be quite ready to pay your honorarium if you can 
ferret out our West Sedgwick mystery. And so, 
as you are the detective in charge of the case, I ask 
you, what do you think about it all? ” 

But I was pretty thoroughly on my guard now. 


MR. PORTER’S VIEWS 


227 


“ I think,” I began, “ that much hinges on the 
ownership of that gold bag.” 

“ And you do not think it is Miss Lloyd’s ? ” 

“ I do not.” 

It need not incriminate her, if it were hers,” 
said Mr. Porter, meditatively knocking the ash from 
his cigar. “ She might have left it in the office at 
any time previous to the day of the crime. Women 
are always leaving such things about. I confess it 
does not seem to me important.” 

“ W as it on Mr. Crawford’s desk when you 
were there?” I asked suddenly. 

Pie looked up at me quickly, and again that 
half-smile came into his eyes. 

‘‘Am I to be questioned?” he said. “Well, 
I’ve no objections. I’m sure. No, I do not think 
it was there when I called on Mr. Crawford that 
evening. But I couldn’t swear to this, fo*r I am 
not an observant man, and the thing might have 
lain there in front of me and never caught my eye. 
If I had noticed it, of course I should have thought 
it was Florence’s.” 

“ But you don’t think so now, do you ? ” 

“ No ; I can’t say I think so. And yet I can 
imagine a girl untruthfully denying ownership 
under such circumstances.” 

I started at this. For hadn’t Miss Lloyd un- 


228 


THE GOLD BAG 


truthfully denied coming down-stairs to talk to her 
uncle ? 

“ But,” went on Mr. Porter, “ if the bag is not 
Florence’s, then I can think of but one explanation 
for its presence there.” 

A lady visitor, late at night,” I said slowly. 

Yes,” was the grave reply; “ and though such 
an occurrence might have been an innocent one, yet, 
taken in connection with the crime, there is a dread- 
ful possibility.” 

” Granting this,” I suggested, “ we ought to be 
able to trace the owner of the bag.” 

“ Not likely. If the owner of that bag — a 
woman, presumably — is the slayer of Joseph Craw- 
ford, and made her escape from the scene undiscov- 
ered, she is not likely to stay around where she may 
be found. And the bag itself, and its contents, 
are hopelessly unindividual.” 

“ They are that,” I agreed. Not a thing in it 
that mightn’t be in any woman’s bag in this country. 
To me, that cleaner’s advertisement means nothing 
in connection with Miss Lloyd.” 

‘‘ I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Bur- 
roughs. I confess I have had a half-fear that your 
suspicions had a trend in Florence’s direction, and 
I assure you, sir, that girl is incapable of the 
slightest impulse toward crime.” 


MR. PORTER’S VIEWS 


229 


“ Tm sure of that,” I said heartily, my blood 
bounding in my veins at an opportunity to speak in 
defense of the woman I loved. But how if her 
impulses were directed, or even coerced, by 
another? ” 

'‘Just what do you mean by that?” 

“ Oh, nothing. But sometimes the best and 
sweetest women will act against their own good 
impulses for those they love.” 

" I cannot pretend to misunderstand you,” said 
Mr. Porter. " But you are wrong. If the one you 
have in mind — I will say no name — was in any 
way guiltily implicated, it was without the knowl- 
edge or connivance of Florence Lloyd. But, man, 
the idea is absurd. The individual in question has 
a perfect alibi.” 

" He refuses to give it.” 

“ Refuses the details, perhaps. And he has a 
right to, since they concern no one but himself. 
No, my friend, you know the French rule; well, 
follow that, and search for the lady with the gold- 
mesh bag.” 

" The lady without it, at present,” I said, with 
an apologetic smile for my rather grim jest. 

"Yes; and that’s the difficulty. As she hasn’t 
the bag, we can’t discover her. So as a clue it is 
worthless.” 


£30 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ It seems to be,” I agreed. 

I thought best not to tell Mr. Porter of the 
card I had found in the bag, for I hoped soon to 
hear from headquarters concerning the lady whose 
name it bore. But I told him about the photograph 
I had found in Mr. Crawford’s desk, and showed 
it to him. He did not recognize it as being a 
portrait of any one he had ever seen. Nor did he 
take it very seriously as a clue. 

“ I’m quite sure,” he said, that Joseph Craw- 
ford has not been interested in any woman since the 
death of his wife. He has always seemed devoted 
to her memory, and as one of his nearest friends, I 
think I would have known if he had formed any 
other attachment. Of course, in a matter like this, 
a man may well have a secret from his nearest 
friends, but I cannot think this mild and gentle- 
looking lady is at all concerned in the tragedy.” 

As a matter of fact, I agreed with Mr. Porter, 
for nothing I had discovered among the late' Mr. 
Crawford’s effects led me to think he had any secret 
romance. 

After Mr. Porter’s departure I studied long over 
my puzzles, and I came to the conclusion that I 
could do little more until I should hear from head- 
quarters. 


XV 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 

That evening I went to see Philip Crawford. 
As one of the executors of his late brother’s estate, 
and as probable heir to the same, he was an im- 
portant personage just now. 

He seemed glad to see me, and glad to discuss 
ways and means of running down the assassin. 
Like Mr. Porter, he attached little importance to 
the gold bag. 

“ I can’t help thinking it belongs to Florence,’^ 
he said. I know the girl so well, and I know 
that her horrified fear of being in any way con- 
nected with the tragedy might easily lead her to 
disown her own property, thinking the occasion 
justified the untruth. That girl has no more guilty 
knowledge of Joseph’s death than I have, and that 
is absolutely none. I tell you frankly, Mr. Bur- 
roughs, I haven’t even a glimmer of a suspicion 
of any one. I can’t think of an enemy my brother 
had; he' was the most easy-going of men. I never 
knew him to quarrel with anybody. So I trust that 
you, with your detective talent, can at least find 
a clue to lead us in the right direction.” 


231 


232 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ You don’t admit the gold bag as a clue, then? ” 
I asked. 

“ Nonsense! No! If that were a clue, it would 
point to some woman who came secretly at night 
to visit Joseph. My brother was not that sort of 
man, sir. He had no feminine acquaintances that 
were unknown to his relatives.” 

That is, you suppose so.” 

“ I know it ! We have been brothers for sixty 
years or more, and whatever Joseph’s faults, they 
did not lie in that direction. No, sir; if that bag 
is not Florence’s, then there is some other rational 
and commonplace explanation of its presence there.” 

I’m glad to hear you speak so positively, Mr. 
Crawford, as to your brother’s feminine acquaint- 
ances. And in connection with the subject, I would 
like to show you this photograph which I found 
in his desk.” 

I handed the card to Mr. Crawford, whose 
features broke into a smile as he looked at it. 

Oh, that,” he said ; that is a picture* of Mrs. 
Patton.” He looked at the picture with a glance 
that seemed to be of admiring reminiscence, and he 
studied the gentle face of the photograph a moment 
without speaking. 

Then he said, She was beautiful as a girl. 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 233 


She used to be a school friend of both Joseph and 
myself.’' 

“ She wrote rather an affectionate message on 
the back,” I observed. 

Mr. Crawford turned the picture over. 

“ Oh, she didn’t send this picture to Joseph. 
She sent it to my wife last Christmas. I took it 
over to show it to Joseph some months ago, and 
left it there without thinking much about it. He 
probably laid it in his desk without thinking much 
about it, either. No, no. Burroughs, there is no 
romance there, and you can’t connect Mrs. Patton 
with any of your detective investigations.” 

‘‘ I rather thought that, Mr. Crawford; for this 
is evidently a sweet, simple-minded lady, and more- 
over nothing has turned up to indicate that Mr. 
Crawford had a romantic interest of any kind.” 

'' No, he didn’t. I knew Joseph as I know my- 
self. No; whoever killed my brother, was a man; 
some villain who had a motive that I know nothing 
alDOut.” 

'' But you were intimately acquainted with your 
brother’s affairs?” 

'' Yes, that is what proves to me that whoever 
this assassin was, it was some one of whose motive 
I know nothing. The fact that my brother was 


234 


THE GOLD BAG 


murdered, proves to me that my brother had an 
enemy, but I had never suspected it before.” 

“ Do you know a Mrs. Egerton Purvis? ” 

I flung the question at him, suddenly, hoping 
to catch him unawares. But he only looked at me 
with! the blank expression of one who hears a name 
for the first time. 

No,” he answered, “ I never heard of her. 
Who is she ? ” 

“ Well, when I was hunting through that gold- 
mesh bag, I discovered a lady’s visiting card with 
that name on it. It had slipped between the linings, 
and so had not been noticed before.” 

To my surprise, this piece of information seemed 
to annoy Mr. Crawford greatly. 

“No!” he exclaimed. “In the bag? Then 
some one has put it there! for I looked over all 
the bag’s contents myself.” 

“ It was between the pocket and the lining,” 
said I ; “it is there still, for as I felt sure no one 
else would discover it, I left it Ihere. Mr. Goodrich 
has the bag.” 

“ Oh, I don’t want to see it,” he exclaimed 
angrily. “ And I tell you anyway, Mr. Burroughs, 
that bag is worthless as a clue. Take my advice, 
and pay no further attention to it.” 

I couldn’t understand Mr. Crawford’s decided 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 235 


attitude against the bag as a clue, but I dropped the 
subject, for I didn’t wish to tell him I liad made 
plans to trace up that visiting card. 

“It is difficult to find anything that is a real 
clue,” I said. 

“ Yes, indeed. The whole affair is mysterious, 
and, for my part, I cannot form even a conjecture 
as to who the villain might have been. He cer- 
tainly left no trace.” 

“Where is the revolver?” I said, picturing 
the scene in imagination. 

Philip Crawford started as if caught unawares. 

“ How do I know ? ” he cried, almost angrily. 
“ I tell you, I have no suspicions. I wish I had ! 
I desire, above all things, to bring my brother’s 
murderer to justice. But I don’t know where to 
look. If the weapon were not missing, I should 
think it a suicide.” 

“ The doctor declares it could not have been 
suicide, even if the weapon had been found near 
him. This they learned from the position of his 
arms and head.” 

“Yes, yes; I know it. It was, without doubt, 
murder. But who — who would have a motive ? ” 

“ They say,” I observed, “ motives for murder 
are usually love, revenge, or money.” 

“ There is no question of love or revenge in 


236 


THE GOLD BAG 


this instance. And as for money, as I am the one 
who has profited financially, suspicion should rest 
on me.’’ 

“Absurd!” I said. 

“ Yes, it is absurd,” he went on, “ for had I de- 
sired Joseph’s fortune, I need not have killed him 
to acquire it. He told me the day before he died 
that he intended to disinherit Florence, and make 
me his heir, unless she broke with that secretary 
of his. I tried to dissuade him from this step, 
for we are not a mercenary lot, we Crawfords, and 
I thought I had made him reconsider his decision. 
Now, as it tunis out, he persisted in his resolve, 
and was only prevented from carrying it out by 
this midnight assassin. We must find that villain, 
Mr. Burroughs! Do not consider expense; do any- 
thing you can to track him down.” 

“ Then, Mr. Crawford,” said I, “ if you do not 
mind the outlay, I advise that we send for Fleming 
Stone. He is a detective of extraordinary powers, 
and I am quite willing to surrender the case to 
him.” 

Philip Crawford eyed me keenly. 

“ You give up easily, young man,” he said 
banteringly. 

“ I know it seems so,” I replied, “ but I have 
my reasons. One is, that Fleming Stone makes 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 237 


important deductions from seemingly unimportant 
clues; and he holds that unless these clues are fol- 
lowed immediately, they are lost sight of and great 
opportunities are gone.’' 

“ H’m,” mused Philip Crawford, stroking his 
strong, square chin. “ I don’t care much for these 
spectacular detectives. Your man, I suppose, would 
glance at the gold bag, and at once announce the 
age, sex, and previous condition of servitude of its 
owner.” 

‘‘ Just what I have thought, Mr. Crawford. 
I’m sure he could do just that.” 

And that’s all the good it would do ! That 
bag doesn’t belong to the criminal.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

By common-sense. No woman came to the 
house in the dead of night and shot my brother, 
and then departed, taking her revolver with her. 
And again, granting a woman did have ner\^e and 
strength enough to do that, such a woman is not 
going off leaving her gold bag behind her as 
evidence ! ” 

This speech didn’t affect me much. It was pure 
conjecture. Women are uncertain creatures, at 
best; and a woman capable of murder would be 
equally capable of losing her head afterward, and 
leaving circumstantial evidence behind her. 


238 


THE GOLD BAG 


I was sorry Mr. Crawford didn’t seem to take 
to the notion of sending for Stone. I wasn’t weak- 
ening in the case so far as my confidence in my 
own ability was concerned; but I could see no 
direction to look except toward Florence Lloyd or 
Gregory Hall, or both. And so I was ready to 
give up. 

What do you think of Gregory Hall ? ” I said 
suddenly. 

As a man or as a suspect ? ” inquired Mr. 
Crawford. 

‘‘Both.” 

“Well, as a man, I think he’s about the 
average, Ordinary young American, of the secretary 
t3^pe. He has little real ambition, but he has had 
a good berth with Joseph, and he has worked 
fairly hard to keep it. As a suspect, the notion 
is absurd. He wasn’t even in West Sedgwick.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Because he went away at six that evening, 
and was in New York until nearly noon the next 
day.” 

“ How do you know? ” 

Philip Crawford stared at me. 

“ He says so,” I went on ; “ but no one can 
prove his statement. He refuses to say where he 
was in New York, or what he did. Now, merely 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 239 


as a supposition, why couldn’t he have come out 
here — say on the midnight train — called on Mr. 
Joseph Crawford, and returned to New York before 
daylight?” 

“ Absurd ! Why, he had no motive for killing 
Joseph.” 

“ He had the same motive Florence would have. 
He knew of Mr. Crawford’s objection to their 
union, and he knew of his threat to change his will. 
Mr. Hall is not blind to the advantages of a 
fortune.” 

Right you are, there ! In fact, I always 
felt he was marrying Florence for her money. I 
had no real reason to think this, but somehow he 
gave me that impression.” 

‘‘ Me, too. Moreover, I found a late extra of 
a New York paper in Mr. Crawford’s office. This 
wasn’t on sale until about half past eleven that night, 
so whoever left it there must have come out from 
the city on that midnight train, or later.” 

A change came over Philip Crawford’s face. 
Apparently he was brought to see the whole matter 
in a new light. 

What ? What’s that ?” he cried excitedly, 
grasping his chair-arms and half rising. “ A late 
newspaper I An extra !” 

“ Yes ; the liner accident, you know.” 


MO 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ But— but — Gregory Hall! Why man, you’re 
crazy! Hall is a good fellow. Not remarkably 
clever, perhaps, and a fortune-hunter, maybe, but 
not — surely not a murderer!” 

“ Don’t take it so hard, Mr. Crawford,” I broke 
in. “ Probably Mr. Hall is innocent. But the late 
paper must have been left there by some one, after, 
say, one o’clock.” 

This is awful ! This is terrible ! ” groaned 
the poor man, and I couldn’t help wondering if he 
had some other evidence against Hall that this 
seemed to corroborate. 

Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and 
began to talk in more normal tones. 

“ Now, don’t let this new idea run away with 
you, Mr. Burroughs,” he said. If Hall had an 
interview with my brother that night, he would have 
learned from him that he intended to make a new 
will, but hadn’t yet done so.” 

“ Exactly ; and that would co-nstitute a motive 
for putting Mr. Crawford out of the way before 
he could accomplish his purpose.” 

But Joseph had already destroyed the will that 
favored Florence.” 

‘^We don’t know that,” I responded gravely. 
“ And, anyway, if he had done so, Mr. Hall didn’t 
know it. This leaves his motive unchanged.” 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 241 

But the gold bag,” said Mr. Crawford, ap- 
parently to get away from the subject of Gregory 
Hall. 

“ If, as you say,” I began, ‘‘ that is Florence's 
bag ” 

I couldn’t go on. A strange sense of duty had 
forced those words from me, but I could say no 
more. 

Fleming Stone might take the case if they 
wanted him to; or they might get some one else. 
But I could not go on, when the only clues dis- 
coverable pointed in a way I dared not look. 

Philip Crawford was ghastly now. His face 
was working and he breathed quickly. 

“ Nonsense, Dad ! ” cried a strong, young 
voice, and his son, Philip, Jr., bounded into the 
room and grasped his father’s hands. I overheard 
a few of your last words, and you two are on the 
wrong track. Florrie’s no more mixed up in that 
horrible business than I am. Neither is Hall. He’s 
a fool chap, but no villain. I heard what you said 
about the late newspaper, but lots of people come 
out on that midnight train. You may as well sus- 
pect some peaceable citizen coming home from the 
theatre, as to pick out poor Hall, without a scrap 
of evidence to point to him.” 

I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty 
16 


£42 


THE GOLD BAG 


assurance of the boy, and I plucked up new courage. 
Apprehension had made me faint-hearted, but if 
he could show such flawless confidence in Florence 
and her betrothed, surely I could do as much. 

Good for you, young man ! I cried, shaking 
his hand. You’ve cheered me up a lot. I’ll take 
a fresh start, and surely we’ll find out something. 
But I’d like to send for Stone.” 

Wait a bit, wait a bit,” said Mr. Crawford. 
‘‘ Phil’s right ; there’s no possibility of Florrie or 
Hall in the matter. Leave the gold bag, the news- 
papers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, 
and go to work in some sensible way.” 

How about Mr. Joseph’s finances?” I asked. 

Are they in satisfactory shape? ” 

“ Never finer,” said Philip Crawford. Joseph 
was a very rich man, and all due to his own clever 
and careful investments. A bit of a speculator, but 
always on the right side of the market. Why, he 
fairly had a corner in X. Y. stock. Just that deal — • 
and it will go through in a few days — means a 
fortune in itself. I shall settle that on Florence.” 

Then you think the will will never be found ? ” 
I said. 

Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well 
he might, but he only said ; 

‘‘If it is, no one will be more glad than I to 


THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED 243 


see Florrie reinstated in her own right. If no will 
turns up, Joe's estate is legally mine, but I shall 
see that Florence is amply provided for." 

He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather 
sorry I had caught him up so sharply. 

I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking 
my brain over it all for a time, I turned in, but to 
a miserably broken night's rest. 


XVI 


A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS 

The next morning I received information from 
headquarters. It was a long-code telegram, and I 
eagerly deciphered it, to learn that Mrs. Egerton 
Purvis was an English lady who was spending a 
few months in New York City. She was staying 
at the Albion Hotel, and seemed to be in every way 
above suspicion of any sort. 

Of course I started off at once to see Mrs. 
Purvis. 

Parmalee came just as I was leaving the inn, 
and was of course anxious and inquisitive to know 
where I was going, and what I was going to do. 

At first I thought I would take him into my 
confidence, and I even thought of taking him with 
me. But I felt sure I could do better work alone. 
It might be that Mrs. Egerton Punds should turn 
out to be an important factor in the case, and I 
suppose it was really an instinct of vanity that 
made me prefer to look her up without Parmalee 
by my side. 

So I told him that I was going to New York 
on a matter in connection with the case, but that 
24,4 


A CALL ON MRS. TURVIS 


245 


1 preferred to go alone, but I would tell him the 
entire result of my mission as soon as I returned. 
I think he was a little disappointed, but he was a 
good-natured chap, and bade me a cheerful good- 
by, saying he would meet me on my return. 

T went to New York and went straight to the 
Albion Hotel. 

Learning at the desk that the lady was really 
there, I sent my card up to her with a request for 
an immediate audience, and very soon I was sum- 
moned to her apartment. 

She greeted me with that air of frigid reserve 
typical of an English woman. Though not unat- 
tractive to look at, she possessed the high cheek- 
bones and prominent teeth which are almost univer- 
sal in the- women of her nation. She was perhaps 
between thirty and forty years old, and had the air 
of a grande dame. 

‘‘ Mr. Burroughs ? ” she said, looking through 
her lorgnon at my card, which she held in her 
hand. 

“ Yes,” I assented, and judging from her ap- 
pearance that she was a woman of a decided and 
straightforward nature I came at once to the point. 

“Em a detective, madam,” I began, and the 
remark startled her out of her calm. 


246 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ A detective ! she cried out, with much the 
same tone as if I had said a rattlesnake. 

Do not be alarmed, I merely state my pro- 
fession to explain my errand.’' 

‘‘Not be alarmed ! when a detective comes to 
see me! How can I help it? Why, I’ve never 
had such an experience before. It is shocking! 
I’ve met many queer people in the States, but not 
a detective! Reporters are bad enough! ” 

“ Don’t let it disturb you so, Mrs. Purvis. I 
assure you there is nothing to trouble you in the 
fact of my presence here, unless it is trouble of 
your own making.” 

“Trouble of my own making!” she almost 
shrieked. “ Tell me at once what you mean, or I 
shall ring the bell and have you dismissed.” 

Her fear and excitement made me think that 
perhaps I was on the track of new developments, 
and lest she should carry out her threat of ringing 
the bell, I plunged at once into the subject. 

“ Mrs. Purvis, have you lost a gold-mesh bag? ” 
I said bluntly. 

“ No, I haven’t,” she snapped, “ and if I had, 
I should take means to recover it, and not wait 
for a detective to come and ask me about it.” 

I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she 
might be telling a falsehood about the bag, but I 


A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS 


247 


didn’t think so. She was angry, annoyed, and a 
little frightened at my intrusion, but she was not 
at all embarrassed at my question. 

Are you quite sure you have not lost a gold- 
link bag?’" I insisted, as if in idiotic endeavor to 
persuade her to have done so. 

‘‘ Of course I’m sure,” she replied, half laugh- 
ing now ; “ I suppose I should know it if I had 
done so.” 

It’s a rather valuable bag,” I went on, “ with 
a gold frame-work and gold chain.” 

Well, if it’s worth a whole fortune, it isn’t 
my bag,” she declared ; for I never owned such 
a one.” 

“ Well,” I said, in desperation, your visiting 
card is in it.” 

My visiting card ! ” she said, with an ex- 
pression of blank wonderment. Well, even if that 
is true, it doesn’t make it my bag. I frequently 
give my cards to other people.” 

This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow 
I couldn’t doubt her assertion that it was not her 
bag, and yet the thought suddenly occurred to me 
if she were clever enough to be implicated in the 
Crawford tragedy, and if she had left her bag there, 
she would be expecting this inquiry, and Avould 
probably be clever enough to have a story prepared. 


248 


THE GOLD BAG 


Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, 
I’m going to ask you, in the interests of justice, 
to help me all you can.” 

Pm quite willing to do so, sir. What is it 
you wish to know? ” 

“ A crime has been committed in a small town 
in New Jersey. A gold-link bag was afterward 
discovered at the scene of the crime, and though 
none of its other contents betokened its owner, a 
visiting card with your name on it was in the bag.” 

Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis 
seemed to get over her fright, and was exceedingly 
sensible for a woman. 

It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, 
and if my card is in it, I can only say that I must 
have given that card to the lady who owns the 
bag.” 

This seemed distinctly plausible, and also 
promised further information. 

Do you remember giving your card to any 
lady with such a bag? ” 

Mrs. Purvis smiled. So many of your 
American women carry those bags,” she said; 
“ they seem to be almost universal this year. I 
have probably given my card to a score of ladies, 
who immediately put it into just such a bag.” 

“ Could you tell me who they are ? ” 


A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS 


249 


No, indeed ; ” and Mrs. Purvis almost laughed 
outright, at what was doubtless a foolish question. 

“ But can’t you help me in any way? ” I 
pleaded. 

“ I don’t really see how I can,” she replied. 
“ You see I have so many friends in New York, 
and they make little parties for me, or afternoon 
teas. Then I meet a great many American ladies, 
and we often exchange cards. But we do it so 
often that of course I can’t remember every par- 
ticular instance. Have you the card you speak 
of?” 

I thanked my stars that I had been thoughtful 
enough to obtain the card before leaving West 
Sedgwick, and talking it front my pocket-book, I 
gave it to her. 

Oh, that one ! ” she said ; perhaps I can help 
you a little, Mr. Burroughs. That is an old- 
fashioned card, one of a few left over from an old 
lot. I have been using them only lately, because 
my others gave out. I have really gone much 
more into society in New York than I had antici- 
pated, and my cards seemed fairly to melt away. 
I ordered some new ones here, but before they 
were sent to me I was obliged to use a few of these 
old-fashioned ones. I don’t know that this would 


250 


THE GOLD BAG 


help you, but I think I can tell pretty nearly to 
whom I gave those cards/' 

It seemed a precarious sort of a chance, but as 
I talked with Mrs. Purvis, I felt more and more 
positive that she herself was not implicated in the 
Crawford case. However, it was just as well to 
make certain. She had gone to her writing-desk, 
and seemed to be looking over a diary or engage- 
ment book. 

Mrs. Purvis," I said, ‘‘ will you tell me where 
you were on Tuesday evening of last week?" 

Certainly ; " and she turned back the leaves of 
the book. ‘‘ I went to a theatre party with my 
friends, the Hepworths ; and afterward, we went to 
a little supper at a restaurant. I returned here about 
midnight. Must I prove this? " she added, smiling; 
‘‘ for I can probably do so, by the hotel clerk and 
by my maid. And, of course, by my friends who 
gave the party." 

‘‘ No, you needn’t prove it," I answered, certain 
now that she knew nothing of the Crawford matter; 
“ but I hope you can give me more information 
about your card." 

Why, I remember that very night, I gave my 
cards to two ladies who were at the theatre with 
us; and I remember now that at that time I had 
only these old-fashioned cards. I was rather 
ashamed of them, for Americans are punctilious in 


A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS 


251 


such matters; and now that I think of it, one of 
the ladies was carrying a gold-mesh bag.” 

Who was she ? ” I asked, hardly daring to 
hope that I had really struck the trail. 

I can’t seem to remember her name, but per- 
haps it will come to me. It was rather an English 
type of name, something like Coningsby.” 

“Where did she live?” 

“ I haven’t the slightest idea. You see I meet 
these ladies so casually, and I really never expect 
to see any of them again. Our exchange of cards 
is a mere bit of formal courtesy. No, I can’t re- 
member her name, or where she was from. But I 
don’t think she was a New Yorker.” 

Truly it was hard to come so near getting what 
might be vital information, and yet have it beyond 
my grasp! It was quite evident that Mrs. Purvis 
was honestly trying to remember the lady’s name, 
but could not do so. 

And then I had what seemed to me an inspira- 
tion. “ Didn’t she give you her card? ” I asked. 

A light broke over Mrs. Purvis’s face. “ Why, 
yes, of course she did ! And I’m sure I can find it.” 

She turned to a card-tray, and rapidly running 
over the bits of pasteboard, she selected three or 
four. 

“ Here they are,” she exclaimed, “ all here to- 
gether. I mean all the cards that were given me 


252 


THE GOLD BAG 


on that particular evening. And here is the name 
I couldn’t think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I 
remember distinctly that she carried a gold bag, and 
no one else in the party did, for we were admiring 
it. And here is her address on the card ; Marathon 
Park, New Jersey.” 

I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of 
the discovery. Had I really found the name and 
address of the owner of the gold bag? Of course 
there might be a slip yet, but the evidence seemed 
clear that ivTrs. Cunningham, of Marathon Park, 
owned the bag that had been the subject of so much 
speculation I 

I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, 
but that was a mere detail. I thanked Mrs. Purvis 
sincerely for the help she had given me, and I was 
glad I had not told her that her casual acquaintance 
was perhaps implicated in a murder mystery. 

I made my adieux and returned at once to West 
Sedgwick. 

As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the 
station, and I told him the whole story, for I 
thought him entitled to the information at once. 

Why, man alive ! ” he exclaimed, '' Marathon 
Park is the very next station to West Sedgwick! ” 

** So it is ! ” I said ; I knew I had a hazy idea 
of having seen the name, but the trains I have taken 
to and from New York have been expresses, which 


A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS 


25S 


didn’t stop there, and I paid no attention to Jt/’ 
It’s a small park,” went on Parmalee, “ of 
swagger residences; very exclusive and reserved, 
you know. You’ve certainly unearthed startling 
news, but I can’t help thinking that it will be a wild 
goose chase that leads us to look for our criminal 
in Marathon Park ! ” 

What do you think we’d better do? ” said I. 
“Go to see Mrs. Cunningham?” 

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” said Parmalee, who 
had a sort of plebeian hesitancy at the thought of 
intruding upon aristocratic strangers. “ Suppose 
you write her a letter and just ask her if she has 
lost her bag.” 

“ All right,” I conceded, for truth to tell, I 
greatly preferred to stay in West Sedgwick than to 
go out of it, for I had always the undefined hope 
of seeing Florence Lloyd. 

So I wrote a letter, not exactly curt, but strictly 
formal, asking Mrs. Cunningham if she had recently 
lost a gold-mesh bag, containing her gloves and 
handkerchief. 

Then Parmalee and I agreed to keep the matter 
a secret until we should get a reply to fhis, for we 
concluded there was no use in stirring up public 
curiosity on the matter until we knew ourselves that 
we were on the right trail. 


XVII 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 

The next day I received a letter addressed in 
modish, angular penmanship, which, before I opened 
it, I felt sure had come from Mrs. Cunningham. 
It ran as follows: 

Mr. Herbert Burroughs: 

Dear Sir: Yes, I have lost a gold bag, and I have known 
all along that it is the one the newspapers are talking so 
much about in connection with the Crawford case. I know, 
too, that you are the detective on the case, and though I 
can’t imagine how you did it, I think it was awfully clever 
of you to trace the bag to me, for I’m sure my name wasn’t 
in it anywhere. As I say, the bag is mine, but I didn’t kill 
Mr. Crawford, and I don’t know who did. I would go 
straight to you, and tell you all about it, but I am afraid of 
detectives and lawyers, and I don’t want to be mixed up in 
the affair anyway. But I am going to see Miss Lloyd, and 
explain it all to her, and then she can tell you. Please don’t 
let my name get in the papers, as I hate that sort of 
prominence. 

Very truly yours, 
Elizabeth Cunningham. 

I smiled a little over the femininity of the 
letter, but as Parmalee had prophesied. Marathon 
Park was evidently no place to look for our criminal. 

254 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 255 


The foolish little woman who had written that letter, 
had no guilty secret on her conscience, of that I was 
sure. 

I telephoned for Parmalee and showed him the 
letter. 

“ It doesn’t help us in one way,” he said, for 
>of course, Mrs. Cunningham is not implicated. But 
the bag is still a clue, for how did it get into Mr. 
Crawford’s office?” 

We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is,” I 
suggested. 

“ He’s not the criminal, leither. If he had 
left his wife’s bag there, he never would have let 
her send this letter.” 

Perhaps he didn’t know she wrote it.” 

Oh, perhaps lots of things ! But I am anxious 
to learn what Mrs. Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd.” 

Let us go over to the Crawford house, and 
tell Miss Lloyd about it.” 

“ Not this morning; I’ve another engagement. 
And besides, the little lady won’t get around so 
soon.” 

“ Why a little lady ? I asked, smiling. 

** Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply 
a little yellow-haired butterfly of a woman.” 

''Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd,” I said 
musingly. 


256 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ Yes ; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing 
a letter like that. There’s lots of personality in a 
woman’s letter. Much more than in a man’s.” 

Parmalee went away, and prompted by his sug- 
gestions, I studied the letter I had just received. 
It was merely an idle fancy, for if Mrs. Cunning- 
ham was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it 
made little difference to me what might be her 
stature or the color of her hair. But, probably 
because of Parmalee’s suggestion, I pictured her to 
myself as a pretty young woman with that air of 
half innocence and half ignorance which so well 
becomes the plump blonde type. 

The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was 
a pleasant place to sit, and I had mused there for 
some time, when Mr. Carstairs came out to tell 
me that I was asked for on the telephone. The call 
proved to be from Florence Lloyd asking me to 
come to her at once. 

Only too glad to obey this summons, I went 
directly to the Crawford house, wondering if any 
new evidence had been brought to light. 

Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered 
me into the library, where Florence was receiving 
a lady caller. 

'' Mrs. Cunningham,” said Florence, as I 
entered, “ may I present Mr. Burroughs — Mr. 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 257 


Herbert Burroughs. I sent for you,” she added, 
turning to me, “ because Mrs. Cunningham has an 
important story to tell, and I thought you ought 
to hear it at once.” 

I bowed politely to the stranger, and awaited 
her disclosures. 

Mrs. Cunningham was a pretty, frivolous-look- 
ing woman, with appealing blue eyes, and a manner 
half-childish, half-apologetic. 

I smiled involuntarily to see how nearly her 
appearance coincided with the picture in my mind, 
and I greeted her almost as if she were a previous 
acquaintance. 

I know I’ve done very wrong,” she began, with 
a nervous little flutter of her pretty hands ; “ but 
I’m ready now to ’fess up, as the children say.” 

She looked at me, so sure of an answering smile, 
that I gave it, and said : 

“ Let us hear your confession, Mrs. Cunning- 
ham; I doubt if it’s a very dreadful one.” 

Well, you see,” she went on, that gold bag 
is mine.” 

‘Wes,” I said; “how did it get here?” 

“ I’ve no idea,” she replied, and I could see 
that her shallow nature fairly exulted in the sen- 
sation she was creating. “ I went to New York 
that night, to the theatre, and I carried my gold 

17 


258 


THE GOLD BAG 


bag, and I left it in the train when I got out at 
the station.” 

“West Sedgwick?” I asked. 

“ No ; I live at Marathon Park, the next station 
to this.” 

“ Next on the way to New York? ” 

“Yes. And when I got out of the train — I 
was with my husband and some other people — we 
had been to a little theatre party — I missed the bag. 
But I didn’t tell Jack, because I knew he’d scold 
me for being so careless. I thought I’d get it back 
from the Lost and Found Department, and then, 
the very next day, I read in the paper about the — 
the — awful accident, and it told about a gold bag 
being found here.” 

“You recognized it as yours?” 

“ Of course ; for the paper described everything 
in it — even to the cleaner’s advertisement that I’d 
just cut out that very day.” 

“ Why didn’t you come and claim it at once ? ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Burroughs, you must know why I 
didn’t! Why, I was scared ’most to death to read 
the accounts of the terrible affair; and to mix in 
it, myself — ^ugh! I couldn’t dream of anything so 
horrible.” 

It was absurd, but I had a desire to shake the 
silly little bundle of femininity who told this really 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 259 


important story, with the twitters and simpers of 
a silly school-girl. 

‘‘ And you would not have come, if I had not 
written you ? ’’ 

She hesitated. “ I think I should have come 
soon, even without your letter.'' 

“Why, Mrs. Cunningham?" 

“ Well, I kept it secret as long as I could, but 
yesterday Jack saw that I had something on my 
mind. I couldn't fool him any longer." 

“ As to your having a mind ! " I said to myself, 
but I made no comment aloud. 

“ So I told him all about it, and he said I must 
come at once and tell Miss Lloyd, because, you see, 
they thought it was her bag all the time." 

“Yes," I said gravely; “it would have been, 
better if you had come at first, with your story.. 
Have you any one to substantiate it, or any proofs 
that it is the truth ? " 

The blue eyes regarded me with an injured 
expression. Then she brightened again. 

“ Oh, yes, I can ‘ prove property ' ; that's what 
you mean, isn't it? I can tell you which glove- 
finger is ripped, and just how much money is in 
the bag, and — and here's a handkerchief exactly 
like the one I carried that night. Jack said if 1 


260 


THE GOLD BAG 


told you all these things, you’d know it’s my bag, 
and not Miss Lloyd’s.” 

“ And then, there was a card in it.” 

"A card? My card?” 

** No, not your card ; a card with another name 
on it. Don’t you know whose ? ” 

Mrs. Cunningham thought for a moment. Then, 
** Oh, yes ! ” she exclaimed. Mrs. Purvis gave me 
her card, and I tucked it in the pocket of the bag. 
Was that the way you discovered the bag was 
mine ? And how did that make you know it ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you about that some other time if 
you wish, Mrs. Cunningham ; but just now I want 
to get at the important part of your story. How 
did your gold bag get in Mr. Crawford’s office?” 

Ah, how did it ? ” The laughing face was 
sober now and she seemed appalled at the question. 
“Jack says some one must have found it in the 
car-seat where I left it, and he ” — she lowered her 

voice — “ he must be the ” 

“ The murderer,” I supplied calmly. “ It does 
look that way. You have witnesses, I suppose, who 
saw you in that train ? ” 

“ Mercy, yes ! Lots of them. The train reaches 
Marathon Park at 12:50, and is due here at one 
o’clock. Ever so many people got out at our 
station. There were six in our own party, and 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 261 


others besides. And the conductor knows me, and 
everybody knows Jack. He’s Mr. John Le Roy 
Cunningham.” 

It was impossible to doubt all this. Further 
corroboration it might be well to get, but there 
was not the slightest question in my mind as to 
the little lady’s truthfulness, 

“ I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham,” I said, for 
coming to us with your story. You may not be 
able to get your bag to-day, but I assure you it 
will be sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can 
be made. These are merely for the sake of for- 
malities, for, as you say, your fellow townspeople 
can certify to your presence on the train, and your 
leaving it at the Marathon Park station.” 

“ Yes,” she replied; “ and ” — she handed me a 
paper — there’s my husband’s address, and his 
lawyer’s address, and the addresses of all the people 
that were in our party that night. Jack said you 
might like to have the list. He would have come 
himself to-day, only he’s fearfully busy. And I said 
I didn’t mind coming alone, just to see Miss Lloyd. 
I wouldn’t have gone to a jury meeting, though. 
And I’m in no hurry for the bag. In fact, I don’t 
care much if I never get it. It wasn’t the value of 
the thing that made me come at all, but the fear 
that my bag might make trouble for Miss Lloyd. 


262 


THE GOLD BAG 


Jack said it might. I don’t see how, myself, but 
I’m a foolish little thing, with no head for business 
matters.” She shook her head, and gurgled an 
absurd little laugh, and then, after a loquacious 
leave-taking, she went away. 

“ Well? ” I said to Florence, and then, Well? ” 
Florence said to me. 

It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance 
had progressed. Already we had laid aside all 
formality of speech and manner, and if the girl 
had not really discovered my mental attitude toward 
her, at least I think she must have suspected it. 

‘‘ Of course,” I began, “ I knew it wasn’t your 
bag, because you said it wasn’t. But I did incline 
a little to the ‘ woman visitor ’ theory, and now that 
is destroyed. I think we must conclude that the 
bag was brought here by the person who found it 
on that midnight train.” 

‘‘ Why didn’t that person turn it over to the 
conductor?” she said, more as if thinking to her- 
self than speaking to me. 

Yes, why, indeed?” I echoed. ‘^And if he 
brought it here, and committed a criminal act, 
why go away and leave it here ? ” 

I think it was at the same moment that the 
minds of both of us turned to Gregory Hall. Her 
eyes fell, and as for me, I was nearly stunned with 
the thoughts that came rushing to my bram. 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 263 ^ 


If the late newspaper had seemed to point to 
Hall’s coming out on that late train, how much 
more so this bag, which had been left on that very 
train ! 

We were silent for a time, and then, lifting her 
sweet eyes bravely to mine, Florence said: 

‘‘ I have something to tell you.” 

‘‘ Yes,” I replied, crushing down the longing 
to take her in my arms and let her tell it there. 

“ Mr. Hall had a talk with me this morning. 
He says that he and the others have searched every- 
where possible for the will, and it cannot be found. 
He says Uncle Joseph must have destroyed it, and 
that it is practically settled that Uncle Philip is 
the legal heir. Of course, Mr. Philip Crawford 
isn’t my uncle, but I have always called him that, 
and Phil and I have been just like cousins.” 

‘‘What else did Mr. Hall say?” I asked, for 
I divined that the difficult part of her recital was 
yet to come. 

“ He said,” she went on, with a rising color, 
“ that he wished me to break our engagement.” 

I will do myself the justice to say that although 
my first uncontrollable thought was one of pure joy 
at this revelation, yet it was instantly followed by 
sympathy and consideration for her. 


264 


THE GOLD BAG 


Why ? I asked in a voice that I tried to 
keep from being hard. 

‘‘ He says/’ she continued, with a note of weari- 
ness in her voice, that he is not a rich man, and 
cannot give me the comforts and luxuries to which 
I have been accustomed, and that therefore it is 
only right for him to release me.” 

Of course you didn’t accept his generous 
sacrifice,” I said; and my own hopes ran riot as 
I listened for her answer. 

I told him I was willing to share poverty 
with him,” she said, with a quiet dignity, as if telling 
an impersonal tale, ‘‘ but he insisted that the en- 
gagement should be broken.” 

“ And is it ? ” I asked eagerly, almost breath- 
lessly. 

She gave me that look which always rebuked 
me — always put me back in my place — ^but which, 
it seemed to me, was a little less severe than ever 
before. ‘‘ It’s left undecided for a day or two,” 
she said. Then she added hurriedly: 

‘‘ I must see if he needs me. Do you suppose 
this story of Mrs. Cunningham’s will in any way — 
well, affect him ? ” 

“ It may,” I replied truthfully. “ At any rate, 
he must be made to tell where he was and what 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 265 


he was doing Tuesday night. You have no idea, 
have you ? '' 

Florence hesitated a moment, looked at me in 
a way I could not fathom, and then, but only after 
a little choking sound in her throat, she said: 

“ No, I have no idea.” 

It was impossible to believe her. No one would 
show such emotion, such difficulty of speech, if 
telling a simple truth. Yet when I looked in her 
troubled eyes, and read there anxiety, uncertainty, 
and misery, I only loved her more than ever. Truly 
it was time for me to give up this case. Whatever 
turn it took, I was no fit person to handle clues or 
evidence which filled me with deadly fear lest they 
turn against the one I loved. 

And yet that one, already suspected by many, 
had been proved to have both motive and oppor- 
tunity. 

And I, I who loved her, knew that, in one 
instance, at least, she had been untruthful. 

Yes, it was high time for me to give this case 
into other hands. 

I looked at her again, steadily but with a mean- 
ing in my glance that I hoped she would under- 
stand. I wanted her to know, that though of 
course justice was my end and aim, yet I was sure 
the truth could not implicate her, and if it did 


€66 THE GOLD BAG 

implicate Mr. Hall, the sooner we discovered it the 
better. 

I think she appreciated my meaning, for the 
troubled look in her own eyes disappeared, and she 
seemed suddenly almost willing to give me her full 
confidence. 

I resolved to make the most of my opportunity. 

“Of course you know,” I said gently, “ that I 
want to believe all you say to me. But, Miss Lloyd, 
your naturally truthful nature so rebels at your 
unveracity, that it is only too plain to be seen when 
you are not telling the truth. Now, I do not urge 
you, but I ask you to tell me, confidentially if you 
choose, what your surmise is as to Mr. Hall's 
strange reticence.” 

“ It is only a surmise,” she said, and though 
the troubled look came back to her eyes, she looked 
steadily at me. “ And I have no real reason even 
to think it, but I can’t help feeling that Gregory 
is interested in some other woman beside myself.” 

Again I felt that uncontrollable impulse of 
satisfaction at this disclosure, and again I stifled it. 
I endeavored to treat the matter lightly. “ Is that 
all?” I asked; “do you mean that perhaps Mr. 
Hall was calling on some other lady acquaintance 
that evening? ” 

“ Yes, that is what I do mean. And, as I say, I 
have no real reason to think it. But still, Mr. Bur- 


THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG 267 


roughs, if it were true, I cannot agree with you 
that it is unimportant. Surely a man is not ex- 
pected to call on one woman when he is betrothed 
to another, or at least, not to make a secret of it.” 

I thoroughly agreed with her, and my opinion 
that Hall was a cad received decided confirmation. 

‘‘ My treating it as a light matter. Miss Lloyd, 
was not quite sincere. Indeed, I may as well con- 
fess that it was partly to cover the too serious 
interest I take in the matter.” 

She looked up, startled at this, but as my eyes 
told her a certain truth I made no effort to conceal, 
she looked down again, and her lip quivered. 

I pulled myself together. Don’t think I am 
taking advantage of your confidence,” I said gently ; 
“ I want only to help you. Please consider me an 
impersonal factor, and let me do all I can for you. 
For the moment, let us suppose your surmise is 
correct. This would, of course, free Mr. Hall from 
any implication of crime.” 

‘‘ Yes, and while I can’t suspect him of any- 
thing like crime, I hate, also, to suspect him of 
disloyalty to me.” 

Her head went up with a proud gesture, and 
I suddenly knew that the thought of Hall’s interest 
in another woman, affected her pride and her sense 
of what was due her, far more than it did her 


268 


THE GOLD BAG 


heart. Her fear was not so much that Hall loved 
another woman, as that his secrecy in the matter 
meant a slight to her own dignified position. 

‘‘ I understand, Miss Lloyd, and I hope for the 
sake of all concerned, your surmise is not correct. 
But, with your permission, I feel it my duty to dis- 
cover where Mr. Hall was that evening, even if to 
do this it is necessary to have professional assist- 
ance from headquarters.” 

She shuddered at this. ‘‘ It is so horrid,” she 
said, to spy upon a gentleman’s movements, if 
he is only engaged in his personal affairs.” 

‘‘If we were sure of that, we need not spy 
upon him. But to the eye of Justice there is always 
the possibility that he was not about his personal 
affairs that evening, but was here in West Sedg- 
wick.” 

“ You don’t really suspect him, do you ? ” she 
said ; and she looked at me as if trying to read my 
very soul. 

“I’m afraid I do,” I answered gravely; “but 
not so much from evidence against him, as because 
I don’t know where else to look. Do you ? ” 

“ No,” said Florence Lloyd. 


XVIII 

IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 

As was my duty I went next to the district 
attorney’s office to tell him about Mrs. Cunningham 
and the gold bag, and to find out from him any- 
thing I could concerning Gregory Hall. I found 
Mr. Porter calling there, and both he and Mr. 
Goodrich welcomed me as a possible bringer of 
fresh news. When I said that I did know of new 
developments, Mr. Porter half rose from his chair. 

I dare say I’ve no business here,” he said ; 
** but you know the deep interest I take in this 
whole matter. Joseph Crawford was my lifelong 
friend and near neighbor, and if I can be in any 
way instrumental in freeing Florence from this web 
of suspicion ” 

I turned on him angrily, and interrupted him 
by saying: 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Porter ; no one has as yet 
voiced a suspicion against Miss Lloyd. For you to 
put such a thought into words, is starting a mine 
of trouble.” 

The older man looked at me indulgently, and I 
think his shrewd perceptions told him at once that 


270 


THE GOLD BAG 


I was more interested in Miss Lloyd than a mere 
detective need be. 

“You are right/' he said; “but I considered 
this a confidential session." 

“ It is,” broke in Mr. Goodrich, “ and if you 
will stay, Mr. Porter, I shall be glad to have you 
listen to whatever Mr. Burroughs has to tell us, 
and then give us the benefit of your advice.” 

I practically echoed the district attorney’s words, 
for I knew Lemuel Porter to be a clear-headed and 
well-balanced business man, and his opinions well 
worth having. 

So it was to two very interested hearers that 
I related first the story of Florence’s coming down- 
stairs at eleven o’clock on the fatal night, for a 
final endeavor to gain her uncle’s consent to her 
betrothal. 

“ Then it was her bag! ” exclaimed Mr. Porter. 
“ I thought so all the time.” 

I said nothing at the moment and listened for 
Mr. Goodrich’s comment. 

“ To my mind,” said the district attorney slowly, 
“ this story, told now by Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. 
If the girl were guilty, or had any guilty knowl- 
edge of the crime, she would not have told of this 
matter at all. It was not forced from her; she 
told it voluntarily, and I, for one, believe it.” 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 


271 


“ She told it,” said I, because she wished to 
take the responsibility of the fallen rose petals 
upon herself. Since we are speaking plainly, 1 may 
assure you, gentlemen, that she told of her later 
visit to the office because I hinted to her that the 
yellow leaves might implicate Gregory Hall.” 

'' Then,” said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, she 
herself suspects Mr. Hall, which proves that she is 
innocent.” 

It doesn’t prove her innocent of collusion,” 
observed Mr. Porter. 

“ Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall,” 
I added. It merely shows that she fears others 
may suspect him.” 

“ It is very complicated,” said the district 
attorney. 

“ It is,” I agreed, “ and that is why I wish 
to send for the famous detective, Fleming Stone.” 

“ Stone ! Nonsense ! ” exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. 

I have every confidence in your skill, Mr. Bur- 
roughs ; I would not insult you by calling in another 
detective.” 

‘‘ Surely not,” agreed Mr. Porter, 'Hf you 
need help, Mr. Burroughs, confer with our local 
man, Mr. Parmalee. He’s a pretty clever chap, 
and I don’t know why you two don’t work more 
together.” 


272 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ We do work together/' said 1. Mr. Parmalee 
is both clever aiid congenial, and we have done our 
best in the matter. But the days are going by and 
little of real importance has been discovered. How- 
ever, I haven't told you as yet, the story of the 
gold bag. I have found its owner." 

Of course there were exclamations of surprise 
at this, but realizing its importance they quietly 
listened to my stoiy. 

With scarcely a word of interruption from my 
hearers, I told them how I had found the card in 
the bag, how I had learned about Mrs. Purvis 
from headquarters, how I had gone to see her, and 
how it had all resulted in Mrs. Cunningham's visit 
to Miss Lloyd that morning. 

“ Well ! " exclaimed Mr. Porter, as I concluded 
the narrative. ‘"Well! Of all things! Well, I am 
amazed! Why, this gives a wide scope of pos- 
sibilities. Scores of our people come out on that 
theatre train every night." 

“ But not scores of people would have a motive 
for putting Joseph Crawford out of the way," said 
Mr. Goodrich, who sat perplexedly frowning. 

Then, by way of a trump card, I told them 
of the “ extra " edition of the evening paper I had 
found in the office. 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 


273 


The district attorney stared at me, but still sat 
frowning and silent. 

But Mr. Porter expressed his wonderment 

** How it all fits in ! ’’ he cried. The bag, 
known to be from that late train ; the paper, known 
to have been bought late in New York! Bur- 
roughs, you’re a wonder! Indeed, we don’t want 
any Fleming Stone, when you can do such clever 
sleuthing as this.” 

I stared at him. Nothing I had done seemed 
to me “ clever sleuthing,” nor did my simple dis- 
coveries seem to me of any great significance. 

‘‘ I don’t like it,” said Mr. Goodrich, at last. 
Everything so far known, both early and late 
information, seems to me to point to Gregory 
Hall and Florence Lloyd in collusion.” 

“ But you said,” I interrupted, ‘‘ that Miss 
Lloyd’s confession that she did go down-stairs late 
at night was in her favor.” 

“ I said that before I knew about this bag story. 
Now I think the case is altered, and the two who 
had real motive are undoubtedly the suspects.” 

“ But they had no motive,” said Mr. Porter, 
since Florence doesn’t inherit the fortune.” 

** But they thought she did,” explained the dis- 
trict attorney, and so the motive was just as 
strong. Mr. Burroughs, I wish you would confer 
18 


274 


THE GOLD BAG 


with Mr. Parmalee, and both of you set to work 
on the suggestions I have advanced. It is a painful 
outlook, to be sure, but justice is inexorable. You 
agree with me, Mr. Porter?” 

Mr. Porter started, as if he, too, had been in a 
brown study. 

‘‘ I do and I don’t,” he said. ** Personally, I 
think both those young people are innocent, but if 
I am correct, no harm will be done by a further 
investigation of their movements on Tuesday night. 
I think Mr. Hall ought to tell where he was that 
night, if only in self-defense. If he proves he was 
in New York, and did not come out here, it will 
not only clear him, but also Florence. For I think 
no one suspects her of anything more than collusion 
with him.” 

Of course I had no mind to tell these men what 
Florence had told me confidentially about Mr. Hall’s 
possible occupation Tuesday evening. They were 
determined to investigate that very question, and 
so, if her surmise were correct, it would disclose 
itself. 

‘‘ Very well,” I said, after listening to a little 
further discussion, which was really nothing but 
repetition, ‘‘ then I will consult with Mr. Parmalee, 
and we will try to make further investigation of 
Mr. Hall’s doings. But I’m ready to admit that 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 276 


it does not look easy to me to discover anything of 
importance. Mr. Hall is a secretive man, and 
unless we have a definite charge against him it is 
difficult to make him talk.” 

‘‘ Well, you can certainly learn something,” said 
Mr. Goodrich. ‘‘ At any rate devote a few days 
to the effort. I have confidence in you, Mr. Bur- 
roughs, and I don’t think you need call in a man 
whom you consider your superior. But if you’ll 
excuse me for making a suggestion, let me ask you 
to remember that a theory of Hall’s guilt also 
possibly implicates Miss Lloyd. You will probably 
discover this for yourself, but don’t let your natural 
chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personal 
element in this case, blind you to the facts.” 

Although he put it delicately, I quite understood 
that he had noticed my personal interest in Florence 
Lloyd, and so, as it was my duty to disregard that 
interest in my work, I practically promised to re- 
mernber his injunction. 

It was then that I admitted to myself the true 
state of my mind. I felt sure Florence was innocent, 
but I knew appearances were strongly against her, 
and I feared I should bungle the case because of the 
very intensity of my desire not to. And I thought 
that Fleming Stone, in spite of evidence, would be 
able to prove what I felt was the truth, that 


276 


THE GOLD BAG 


Florence was guiltless of all knowledge of or com- 
plicity in her uncle’s death. 

However, I had promised to go on with the 
quest, and I urged myself on, with the hope that 
further developments might clear Florence, even if 
they more deeply implicated Gregory Hall. 

I went back to the inn, and spent some time 
in thinking over the matter, and methodically 
recording my conclusions. And, while I thought, I 
became more and more convinced that, whether 
Florence connived or not, Hall was the villain, and 
that he had actually slain his employer because he 
had threatened to disinherit his niece. 

Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that 
night, Mr. Crawford was already engaged in draw- 
ing up the new will, and in order to purloin it Hall 
had killed him, not knowing that the other will 
was already destroyed. And destroyed it must be, 
for surely Hall had no reason to steal or suppress 
the will that favored Florence. 

As a next move, I decided to interview Mr. 
Hall. 

Such talks as I had had with him so far, had 
been interrupted and unsatisfactory. Now I would 
see him alone, and learn something from his manner 
and appearance. 

I found him, as I had expected, in the office 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 277 


of his late employer. He was surrounded with 
papers, and was evidently very busy, but he greeted 
me with a fair show of cordiality, and offered .me a 
chair. 

“ I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall,” I 
said, ** and as I see you’re busy, I will be as brief 
as possible.” 

“ I’ve been expecting you,” said he calmly. 
“ In fact. I’m rather surprised that you haven’t 
been here before.” 

‘‘Why?” said I, eying him closely. 

“ Only because the inquiries made at the inquest 
amounted to very little, and I assumed you would 
question all the members of the household again.” 

“ I’m not sure that’s necessary,” I responded, 
following his example in adopting a light, casual 
tone. “ I have no reason to suspect that the servants 
told other than the exact truth. I have talked to 
both the ladies, and now I’ve only a few questions 
to put to you.” 

He looked up, surprised at my self-satisfied air. 

“ Have you nailed the criminal ? ” he asked, 
with a greater show of interest than he had before 
evinced. 

“ Not exactly nailed him, perhaps. But we 
fancy we are on the scent.” 

“ Resent what ? ” he asked, looking blank. 


278 


THE GOLD BAG 


'' I didn’t say ‘ resent’ I said, we are on the 
scent.” 

Oh, yes. And in what direction does it lead 
you ? ” 

In your direction,” I said, willing- to try what 
effect bluntness might have upon this composed 
young man. 

I beg your pardon? ” he said, as if he hadn’t 
heard me. 

Evidences are pointing toward you as the 
criminal,” I said, determined to disturb his com- 
posure if I could. 

Instead of showing surprise or anger, he gave a 
slight smile, as one would at an idea too ridiculous 
to be entertained for an instant. Somehow, that 
smile was more convincing to me than any verbal 
protestation could have been. 

Then I realized that the man was doubtless a 
consummate actor, and he had carefully weighed 
the value of that supercilious smile against assev- 
erations of innocence. So I went on: 

‘‘ When did you first learn of the accident to 
the Atlantic liner, the North America? ” 

I suppose you mean that question for a trap,” 
he said coolly; “but I haven’t the least objection 
to answering it. I bought a late ‘ extra ’ in New 
York City the night of the disaster.” 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 279 


** At what hour did you buy it ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know exactly. It was some time 
after midnight.” 

Really, there was little use in questioning this 
man. If he had bought his paper at half-past 
eleven, as I felt positive he did, and if he had 
come out to Sedgwick on the twelve o’clock train, 
he was quite capable of answering me in this casual 
way, to throw me off the track. 

Well, I would try once again. 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Hall, but I am obliged to 
ask you some personal questions now. Are you 
engaged to Miss Lloyd ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon ? ” 

His continued requests for me to repeat my 
questions irritated me beyond endurance. Of course 
it was a bluff to gain time, but he did it so politely, 
I couldn’t rebuke him. 

Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd? ” I repeated. 

No, I think not,” he said slowly. ** She 
wants to break it off, and I, as a poor man, should 
not stand in the way of her making a brilliant 
marriage. She has many opportunities for such, 
as her uncle often told me, and I should be selfish 
indeed, now that she herself is poor, to hold her 
to her promise to me.” 

The hypocrite! To lay on Florence the 


280 


THE GOLD BAG 


responsibility for breaking the engagement. Truly, 
she was well rid of him, and I hoped I could con- 
vince her of the fact. 

'' But she is not so poor,” I said. Mr. Philip 
Crawford told me he intends to provide for her 
amply. And I’m sure that means a fair-sized 
fortune, for the Crawfords are generous people.” 

Gregory Hall’s manner changed. 

‘‘Did Philip Crawford say that?” he cried. 
“ Are you sure ? ” 

“ Of course I’m sure, as he said it to me.” 

“ Then Florence and I may be happy yet,” he 
said; and as I looked him straight in the eye, he 
had the grace to look ashamed of himself, and, 
with a rising color, he continued : “ I hope you 
understand me, Mr. Burroughs. No man could ask 
a girl to marry him if he knew that meant con- 
demning her to comparative poverty.” 

“ No, of course not,” said I sarcastically. “ Then 
I assume that, so far as you are concerned, your 
engagement with Miss Lloyd is not broken ? ” 

“ By no means. In fact, I could not desert 
her just now, when there is a — well, a sort of a 
cloud over her.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” I thundered. “ There 
is no cloud over her.” 


IN MR. GOODRICHS OFFICE 281 


Well, you know, the gold bag and the yellow 
rose leaves ” 

“ Be silent ! The gold bag has been claimed by 
its owner. But you are responsible for its presence 
in this room! You, who brought it from the 
midnight train, and left it here! You, who also 
left the late city newspaper here! You, who also 
dropped two yellow petals from the rose in your 
buttonhole ! ” 

Gregory Hall seemed to turn to stone as he 
listened to my words. He became white, then 
ashen gray. His hands clinched his chair-arms, 
and his eyes grew glassy and fixed. 

I pushed home my advantage. “ And therefore, 
traced by these undeniable evidences, I know that 
you are the slayer of Joseph Crawford. You killed 
your friend, your benefactor, your employer, in 
order that he might not disinherit the girl whose 
fortune you wish to acquire by marrying her! 

Though I had spoken in low tones, my own 
intense emotion made my words emphatic, and as I 
finished I was perhaps the more excited of the two. 

For Hall’s composure had returned; his face 
resumed its natural color; his eyes their normal 
expression — that of cold indifference. 

“ Mr. Burroughs,” he said quietly, you must 
be insane.” 


282 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ That is no answer to my accusations,’’ I 
stormed. “ I tell you of the most conclusive evi- 
dence against yourself, and instead of any attempt 
to refute it you mildly remark, ‘You are insane.’ 
It is you who are insane, Mr. Hall, if you think you 
can escape arrest and trial for the murder of Joseph 
Crawford.” 

“ Oh, I think I can,” was his only answer, 
with that maddening little smile of his. 

“ Then where were you on Tuesday night? ” 

“ Excuse me ? ” 

“Where were you on Tuesday night? ” 

“ That I refuse to tell — as I have refused before, 
and shall always refuse.” 

“ Because you were here, and because you have 
too much wisdom to try to prove a false alibi.” 

He looked at me half admiringly, “ You are 
right in that,” he said. “ It is extremely foolish 
for any one to fake an alibi, and I certainly never 
should try to do so.” 

“ That’s how I know you were here,” I replied 
triumphantly. 

“You do, do you? Well, Mr. Burroughs, I 
don’t pretend to misunderstand you — for Miss Lloyd 
has told me all about Mrs. Cunningham and her 
bag that she left in the train. But I will say this : 
if you think I came out on that midnight train, 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 


283 


go and ask the conductor. He knows me, and as I 
often do come out on that train, he may remember 
that I was not on it that night. And while you’re 
about it, and since you consider that late newspaper 
a clue, also ask him who was on the train that 
might have come here afterward.” 

If this was bluffing, it was a very clever bluff, 
and magnificently carried out. Probably his hope 
was that the conductor could not say definitely as 
to Hall’s presence on the late train, and any other 
names he might mention would only complicate 
matters. 

But before I left I made one more attempt to 
get at this man’s secret. 

‘‘ Mr. Hall,” I began, “ I am not unfriendly. 
In fact, for Miss Lloyd’s sake as well as your own, 
I should like to remove every shadow of suspicion 
that hovers near either or both of you.” 

I know that,” he said quickly. Don’t think 
I can’t see through your * friendliness ’ to Miss 
Lloyd! But be careful there, Mr. Burroughs. A 
man does not allow too many ‘ friendly ’ glances 
toward the girl he is engaged to.” 

So he had discovered my secret! Well, per- 
haps it was a good thing. Now I could fight for 
Florence more openly if necessary. 

You are right, Mr. Hall,” I went on. ** I 


!284 


THE GOLD BAG 


hold Miss Lloyd in very high esteem, and I assure 
you, as man to man, that so long as you and she 
are betrothed, neither of you will have cause to 
look on me as other than a detective earnest in his 
work in your behalf/^ ' 

“ Thank you,’' said Hall, a little taken aback 
by my frankness. 

I went away soon after that, and without quizzing 
him any further, for, though I still suspected him, 
I realized that he would never say anything to in- 
criminate himself. 

The theory that the criminal was some one who 
came in on that midnight train was plausible in- 
deed; but what a scope it offered! 

Why, a total stranger to Sedgwick might have 
come and gone, entirely unobserved, in the crowd. 

It was with little hope, therefore, that I arranged 
for an interview with the conductor of the train. 

He lived in Hunterton, a few stations from 
West Sedgwick, and, after ascertaining by telephone 
that he could see me the next day, I went to his 
house. 

Well, no,” he replied, after thinking over my 
query a bit ; I don’t think Mr. Hall came out 
from New York that night. I’m ’most sure he 
didn’t, because he usually gives me his newspaper 


IN MR. GOODRICH’S OFFICE 


285 


as he steps off the train, and I didn’t get any 
‘ extra ’ that night.” 

Of course this wasn’t positive proof that Hall 
wasn’t there, so I asked him to tell me all the West 
Sedgwdck people that he did remember as being 
on his train that night. 

He mentioned a dozen or more, but they were 
nearly all names unknown to me. 

Do you remember the Cunninghams being on 
the train? ” I asked. 

'‘Those Marathon Park people? Oh, yes. 
They were a gay party, — coming back from a 
theatre supper, I suppose. And that reminds me: 
Philip Crawford sat right behind the Cunninghams. 
I forgot him before. Well, I guess that’s all the 
West Sedgwick people I can remember.” 

I went away not much the wiser, but with a 
growing thought that buzzed in my brain. 

It was absurd, of course. But he had said Philip 
Crawford had sat right behind Mrs. Cunningham. 
How, then, could he help seeing the gold bag she 
left behind, when she got out at the station just 
before West Sedgwick? Indeed, who else could 
have seen it but the man in the seat directly behind ? 
Even if some one else had picked it up and carried 
it from the car, Mr. Crawford must have seen it. 

Moreover, why hadn’t he said he was on that 


286 


THE GOLD BAG 


train? Why conceal such a simple matter? Again, 
who had profited by the whole affair ? And why had 
Gregory Hall said : Ask the conductor who did 
get off that train?’' 

The rose petals were already explained by 
Florence. If, then, Philip Crawford had, much 
later, come to his brother’s with the gold bag and 
the late newspaper, and had gone away and left 
them there, and had never told of all this, was 
there not a new direction in which to look? 

But Philip Crawford! The dead man’s own 
brother! 


XIX 


THE MIDNIGHT TRMN 

The enormity of suspecting Philip Crawford 
was so great, to my mind, that I went at once 
to the district attorney’s office for consultation with 
him. 

Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, 
and then, when I waited for comment, said quietly: 

‘‘ Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought 
all along that Philip Crawford was concealing some- 
thing, but I didn’t think, and don’t think now, that 
he has any guilty secret of his own. I rather 
fancied he might know something that, if told, 
would be detrimental to Miss Lloyd’s cause.” 

It may be so,” I returned, “ but I can’t see 
how that would make him conceal the fact of his 
having been on that late train Tuesday night. Why, 
I discussed with him the possibility of Hall’s coming 
out on it, and it would have been only natural to 
say he was on it, and didn’t see Hall.” 

“ Unless he did see him,” remarked the district 
attorney. 

“Yes; - there’s that possibility. He may be 

shielding Hall, for Miss Lloyd’s sake — and ” 

287 


288 


THE GOLD BAG 


Let’s go to see him,” suggested Mr. Goodrich. 
“ I believe in the immediate following up of any 
idea we may have.” 

It was about five in the afternoon, an hour 
when we were likely to find Mr. Crawford at home, 
so we started off at once, and on reaching his house 
we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in the 
library, but that he would see us. So to the library 
we went, and found Mr. Crawford and his lawyer 
hard at work on the papers of the Joseph Crawford 
estate. 

Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I 
detected a look of apprehension on Philip Craw- 
ford’s face, as we entered, but he greeted us in 
his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be seated. 

'‘To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford,” 
said the district attorney, “ Mr. Burroughs and I 
are still searching for new light on the tragedy of 
your brother’s death. And now Mr. Burroughs 
wants to put a few questions to you, which may 
help him in his quest.” 

Philip Crawford looked straight at me with 
his piercing eyes, and it seemed to me that he 
straightened himself, as for an expected blow. 

"Yes, Mr. Burroughs,” he said courteously. 
"What is it you want to ask?” 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


289 


So plain and straightforward was his manner, 
that I decided to be equally direct. 

“ Did you come out in that midnight train from 
New York last Tuesday night?'' I began. 

“ I did," he replied, in even tones. 

‘‘ WTiile on the train did you sit behind a lady 
who left a gold bag in the seat when she got out ? " 

. I did." 

‘‘ Did you pick up that bag and take it away 
with you? " 

I did." 

‘‘ Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag 
that was found in your brother’s office, I think you 
owe a more detailed explanation.” 

To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, 
who heard these questions and answers, were 
astounded, is putting it too mildly. They were 
almost paralyzed with surprise and dismay. 

To hear these condemning assertions straight 
from the lips of the man they incriminated was 
startling indeed. 

“ You are right," said Philip Crawford. “ I 
do owe an explanation, and I shall give it here and 
now.” 

Although what he was going to say was doubt- 
less a confession, Mr. Crawford's face showed an 
unmistakable expression of relief. He seemed like 
19 


290 


THE GOLD BAG 


a man who had borne a terrible secret around with 
him for the past week, and was now glad that he 
was about to impart it to some one else. 

He spoke very gravely, but with no faltering 
or hesitation. 

‘‘ This is a solemn confession,’' he said, turning 
to his lawyer, and is made to the district attorney, 
with yourself and Mr. Burroughs as witnesses.” 

Mr. Randolph bowed his head, in acknowledg- 
ment of this formal statement. 

‘‘ I am a criminal in the eyes of the law,” said 
Mr. Crawford, in an impersonal tone, which I knew 
he adopted to hide any emotion he might feel. I 
have committed a dastardly crime. But I am not 
the murderer of my brother Joseph.” 

We all felt our hearts lightened of a great load, 
for it was impossible to disbelieve that calm state- 
ment and the clear gaze of those truthful, unafraid 
eyes. 

“The story I have to tell will sound as if I 
might have been my brother’s slayer, and this is 
why I assert the contrary at the outset.” 

Pausing here, Mr. Crawford unlocked the 
drawer of a desk and took out a; small pistol, which 
he laid on the table. 

“ That,” he said, “ is my revolver, and it is the 
weapon with which my brother was killed.” 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


291 


1 felt a choking sensation. Philip Crawford’s 
manner was so far removed from a sensational or 
melodramatic effect, that it was doubly impressive* 
I believed his statement that he did not kill his 
brother, but what could these further revelations 
mean? Hall? Florence? Young Philip? Whom 
would Philip Crawford thus shield for a whole 
week, and then, when forced to do so, expose? 

‘‘ You are making strange declarations, Mr. 
Crawford,” said Lawyer Randolph, who was already 
white-faced and trembling. 

I know it,” went on Philip Crawford, and 
I trust you three men will hear my story through, 
and then take such measures as you see fit. 

This pistol, as I said, is my property. Perhaps 
about a month ago, I took it over to my brother 
Joseph. He has always been careless of danger, 
and as he was in the habit of sitting in his office 
until very late, with the long windows open on a 
dark veranda, I often told him he ought to keep a 
weapon in his desk, by way of general protection. 
Then, after there had been a number of burglaries 
in West Sedgwick, I took this pistol to him, and 
begged him as a favor to me to let it stay in his 
desk drawer as a precautionary measure. He 
laughed at my solicitude, but put it away in a 


292 


THE GOLD BAG 


drawer, the upper right-hand one, among his busi^ 
ness papers. So much for the pistol. 

'' Last Tuesday night I came out from New 
York on that midnight train, that reaches West 
Sedgwick station at one o’clock. In the train I 
did not notice especially who sat near me, but when 
I reached our station and started to leave the car, 
I noticed a gold bag in the seat ahead. I picked it 
up, and, with a half-formed intention of handing 
it to the conductor, I left the train. But as I 
stepped off I did not see the conductor, and, though 
I looked about for him, he did not appear, and the 
train moved on. I looked in the station, but the 
ticket agent was not visible, and as the hour was 
so late I slipped the bag into my pocket, intending 
to hand it over to the railroad authorities next 
morning. In fact, I thought little about it, for I 
was very much perturbed over some financial con- 
siderations. I had been reading my newspaper all 
the way out from the city. It was an ‘ extra,’ with 
the account of the steamship accident.” 

Here Mr. Crawford looked at me, as much as 
to say, There’s your precious newspaper clue,” 
but his manner was indicative only of sadness and 
grief ; he had no cringing air as of a murderer. 

“ However, I merely skimmed the news about 
the steamer, so interested was I in the stock market 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


293 


reports. I needn’t now tell the details, but 1 knew 
that Joseph had a ' corner ’ in X. Y. stock. I was 
myself a heavy investor in it, and I began to realize 
that I must see Joseph at once, and learn his in- 
tended actions for the next day. If he threw his 
stock on the market, there would be a drop of per- 
haps ten points and I should be a large loser, if, 
indeed, I were not entirely wiped out. So I went 
from the train straight to my brother’s home. 
When I reached the gate, I saw there was a low 
light in his office, so I went round that way, instead 
of to the front door. As I neared the veranda, 
and went up the steps, I drew from my overcoat 
pocket the newspaper, and, feeling the gold bag 
there also, I drew that out, thinking to show it 
to Joseph. As I look back now, I think it occurred 
to me that the bag might be Florence’s; I had 
seen her carry one like it. But, as you can readily 
understand, I gave no coherent thought to the bag, 
as my mind was full of the business matter. The 
French window was open, and I stepped inside.” 

Mr. Crawford paused here, but he gave way to 
no visible emotion. He was like a man with an 
inexorable duty to perform, and no wish to stop 
until it was finished. 

But truth was stamped unmistakably in every 
word and every look. 


294 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ Only the desk light was turned on, but that 
gave light enough for me to see my brother sitting 
dead in his chair. I satisfied myself that he was 
really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I looked 
about the room. Though I felt benumbed and half- 
unconscious, physically, my thoughts worked 
rapidly. On the desk before him I saw his will.’’ 

An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph 
was the only sound that greeted this astonishing 
statement. 

Yes,” and Mr. Crawford took a document 
from the same drawer whence he had taken the 
pistol ; “ there is Joseph Crawford’s will, leaving 
all his property to Florence Lloyd.” 

Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his 
client passed to him, and, after a glance at it, 
laid it on the table in front of him. 

“ That was my crime,’' said Philip Crawford 
solemnly, “ and I thank God that I can confess it 
and make restitution. I must have been suddenly 
possessed of a devil of greed, for the moment I 
saw that will, I knew that if I took it away the 
property would be mine, and I would then run no 
danger of being ruined by my stock speculations. 
I had a dim feeling that I should eventually give 
all, or a large part, of the fortune to Florence, but 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


295 


at the moment I was obsessed by evil, and I— I 
stole my brother’s will.” 

It was an honest confession of an awful crime. 
But under the spell of that strong, low voice, and 
the upright bearing of that impressive figure, we 
could not, at the moment, condemn; we could only 
listen and wait. 

Then,” the speaker proceeded, “ I was seized 
with the terrific, unreasoning fear that I dare say 
always besets a malefactor. I had but one thought, 
to get away, and leave the murder to be discovered 
by some one else. In a sort of subconscious effort 
at caution, I took my pistol, lest it prove incriminat- 
ing evidence against me, but in my mad frenzy of 
fear, I gave no thought to the gold bag or the 
newspaper. I came home, secreted the will and 
the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubts 
as to the existence of a hell. A thousand times I 
have been on the point of making this confession, 
and even had it not been brought about as it has, I 
must have given way soon. No mortal could stand 
out long under the pressure of remorse and regret 
that has been on me this past week. Now, gentle- 
men, I have told you all. The action you may take 
in this matter must be of your own choosing. But, 
except for the stigma of past sin, I stand again 
before the world, with no unconfessed crime upon 


296 


THE GOLD BAG 


my conscience. I stole the will; I have restored 
it. But my hands are clean of the blood of my 
brother, and I am now free to add my efforts to 
yours to find the criminal and avenge the crime.’' 

He had not raised his voice above those low, 
even tones in which he had started his recital; he 
had made no bid for leniency of judgment; but, 
to a man, his three hearers rose and held out 
friendly hands to him as he finished his story. 

“ Thank you,” he said simply, as he accepted 
this mute token of our belief in his word. I 
am gratified at your kindly attitude, but I realize, 
none the less, what this will all mean for me. Not 
only myself but my innocent family must share my 
disgrace. However, that is part of the wrong- 
doer’s punishment — that results fall not only on his 
own head, but on the heads and hearts of his loved 
ones.” 

Mr. Goodrich,” said Mr. Randolph, I don’t 
know how you look upon this matter from your 
official viewpoint, but unless you deem it necessary, 
I should think that this confidence of Mr. Craw- 
ford’s need never be given to the public. May 
we not simply state that the missing will has been 
found, without any further disclosures? ” 

‘‘ I am not asking for any such consideration,” 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


297 


said Philip Crawford. If you decide upon such 
a course, it will be entirely of your own volition.” 

The district attorney hesitated. 

Speaking personally,” he said, at last, “ I 
may say that I place full credence in Mr. Craw- 
ford’s story. I am entirely convinced of the abso- 
lute truth of all his statements. But, speaking 
officially, I may say that in a court of justice wit- 
nesses would be required, who could corroborate 
his words.” 

But such witnesses are manifestly impossible 
to procure,” said Mr. Randolph. 

Certainly they are,” I agreed, “ and I should 
like to make this suggestion: Believing, as we 
do, in Mr. Crawford’s story, it becomes important 
testimony in the case. Now, if it were made public, 
it would lose its importance, for it would set 
ignorant tongues wagging, and give rise to absurd 
and untrue theories, and result in blocking our 
best-meant efforts. So I propose that we keep the 
matter to ourselves for a time — say a week or a 
fortnight — keeping Mr. Crawford under surveil- 
lance, if need be. Then we can work on the case, 
with the benefit of the suggestions offered by Mr. 
Crawford’s revelations; and I, for one, think such 
benefit of immense importance.” 

“ That will do,” said Mr. Goodrich, whose 


298 


THE GOLD BAG 


troubled face had cleared at my suggestion. You 
are quite right, Mr. Burroughs. And the ‘ sur- 
veillance ’ will be a mere empty formality. For a 
man who has confessed as Mr. Crawford has done, 
is not going to run away from the consequences 
of his confession.” 

I am not,” said Mr. Crawford. And I am 
grateful for this respite from unpleasant publicity. 
I will take my punishment when it comes, but I 
feel with Mr. Burroughs that more progress can 
be made, if what I have told you is not at once 
generally known.” 

“ Where now does suspicion point ? ” 

It was Mr. Randolph who spoke. His legal 
mind had already gone ahead of the present occa- 
sion, and was applying the new facts to the old 
theories. 

“ To Gregory Hall,” said the district attorney. 

** Wait,” said I. If Mr. Crawford left the bag 
and the newspaper in the office, we have no evidence 
whatever that Mr. Hall came out on that late train.” 

‘‘ Nor did he need to,” said Mr. Goodrich, who 
was thinking rapidly. He might have come on 
an earlier train, or, for that matter, not by train 
at all. He may have come out from town in a 
motor car.” 

This was possible; but it did not seem to me 


THE MIDNK HT TRAIN 


299 


probable. A motor car was a conspicuous way for 
a man to come out from New York and return, 
if he wished to keep his visit secret. Still, he 
could have left the car at some distance from the 
house, and walked the rest of the way. 

“ Did Mr. Hall know that a revolver was kept 
in Mr. Crawford’s desk drawer? ” I asked. 

“He did,” replied Philip Crawford. “ He was 
present when I took my pistol over to Joseph.” 

“ Then,” said Mr. Goodrich, “ the case looks 
to me very serious against Mr. Hall. We have 
proved his motive, his opportunity, and his method, 
or, rather, means, of committing the crime. Add to 
this his unwillingness to tell where he was on 
Tuesday night, and I see sufficient justification for 
issuing a warrant for his arrest.” 

“ I don’t know,” said Philip Crawford, 
“ whether such immediate measures are advisable. 
I don’t want to influence you, Mr. Goodrich, but 
suppose we see Mr. Hall, and question him a little. 
Then, if it seems to you best, arrest him.” 

“ That is a good suggestion, Mr. Crawford,” 
said the district attorney. “We can have a sort of 
court of inquiry by ourselves, and perhaps Mr. Hall 
will, by his own words, justify or relieve our sus- 
picions.” 

I went away from Mr. Crawford’s house, and 


300 


THE GOLD BAG 


went straight to Florence Lloyd’s. I did this almost 
involuntarily. Perhaps if I had stopped to think, 
I might have realized that it did not devolve upon 
me to tell her of Philip Crawford’s confession. But 
I wanted to tell her myself, because I hoped that 
from her manner of hearing the story I could learn 
something. I still believed that in trying to shield 
Hall, she had not yet been entirely frank with me, 
and at any rate, I wanted to be the one to tell 
her of the important recent discovery. 

When I arrived, I found Mr. Porter in the 
library talking with Florence. At first I hesitated 
about telling my story before him, and then I re- 
membered that he was one of the best of Florence’s 
friends and advisers, and moreover a man of sound 
judgment and great perspicacity. Needless to say, 
they were both amazed and almost stunned by the 
recital, and it was some time before they could take 
in the situation in all its bearings. We had a long, 
grave conversation, for the three of us were not 
influenced so much by the sensationalness of this 
new development, as by the question of whither it 
led. Of course the secret was as safe with these 
two, as with those of us who had heard it directly 
from Philip Crawford’s lips. 

** I understand Philip Crawford’s action,” said 
Mr. Porter, very seriously. ‘‘ In the first place he 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


301 


was not quite himself, owing to the sudden shock 
of seeing his brother dead before his eyes. Also 
the sight of his own pistol, with which the deed had 
evidently been committed, unnerved him. It was 
an almost unconscious nervous action which made 
him take the pistol, and it was a sort of subconscious 
mental working that resulted in his abstracting the 
will. Had he been in full possession of his brain 
faculty, he could not have done either. He did 
wrong, of course, but he has made full restitution, 
and his wrong-doing should not only be forgiven 
but forgotten.’' 

I looked at Mr. Porter in unfeigned admiration. 
Truly he had expressed noble sentiments, and his 
must be a broadly noble nature that could show 
such a spirit toward his fellow man. 

Florence, too, gave him an appreciative glance, 
but her mind seemed to be working on the pos- 
sibilities of the new evidence. 

Then it would seem,” she said slowly, “ that 
as I, myself, was in Uncle’s office at about eleven 
o’clock, and as Uncle Philip was there a little after 
one o’clock, whoever killed Uncle Joseph came and 
went away between those hours.” 

“ Yes,” I said, and I knew that her thoughts 
had flown to Gregory Hall. “ But I think there 


302 


THE GOLD BAG 


are no trains in and out again of West Sedgwick 
between those hours/’ 

He need not have come in a train,” said 
Florence slowly, as if simply voicing her thoughts. 

Don’t attempt to solve the mystery, Florence,” 
said Mr. Porter in his decided way. '' Leave that 
for those who make it their business. Mr. Bur- 
roughs, I am sure, will do all he can, and it is not 
for you to trouble your already sad heart with these 
anxieties. Give it up, my girl, for it means only 
useless exertion on your part.” 

And on my part too, I fear, Mr. Porter,” 
I said. “ Without wishing to shirk my duty, I can’t 
help feeling Pm up against a problem that to me is 
insoluble. It is my desire, since the case is baffling, 
to call in talent of a higher order. Fleming Stone, 
for instance.” 

Mr. Porter gave me a sudden glance, and it 
was a glance I could not understand. For an in- 
stant it seemed to me that he showed fear, and 
this thought was instantly followed by the im- 
pression that he feared for Florence. And then I 
chid myself for my foolish heart that made every 
thought that entered my brain lead to Florence 
Lloyd. With my mind in this commotion I scarcely 
heard Mr. Porter’s words. 

No, no,” he was saying, we need no other 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


303 


or cleverer detective than you, Mr. Burroughs. 
If, as Florence says, the murderer was clever 
enough to come between those two hours, and go 
away again, leaving no sign, he is probably clever 
enough so to conceal his coming and going that he 
may not be traced.” 

‘‘ But, Mr. Porter,” I observed, they say 
murder will out.” 

Again that strange look came into his eyes. 
Surely it was an expression of fear. But he only 
said, “ Then you’re the man to bring that result 
about, Mr. Burroughs. I have great confidence in 
your powers as a detective.” 

He took his leave, and I was not sorry, for I 
wanted an opportunity to see Florence alone. 

I am so sorry,” she said, and for the first time 
I saw tears in her dear, beautiful eyes, “ to hear 
that about Uncle Philip. But Mr. Porter was right, 
he was not himself, or he never could have done it.” 

“ It was an awful thing for him to find his 
brother as he did, and go away and leave him so.” 

“Awful, indeed! But the Crawfords have 
always been strange in their ways. I have never 
seen one of them show emotion or sentiment upon 
any occasion.” 

“ Now you are again an heiress,” I said, sud- 
denly realizing the fact 


304 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ Yes/’ she said, but her tone indicated that her 
fortune brought in its train many perplexing 
troubles and many grave questions. 

“ Forgive me,” I began, if I am unwarrantably 
instrusive, but I must say this. Affairs are so 
changed now, that new dangers and troubles pay 
arise for you. If I can help you in any way, will 
you let me do so? Will you confide in me and 
trust me, and will you remember that in so doing 
you are not putting yourself under the slightest 
obligation ? ” 

She looked at me very earnestly for a moment, 
and then without replying directly to my questions, 
she said in a low tone, “ You are the very best friend 
I have ever had.” 

Florence!” I cried; but even as she had spoken, 
she had gc«ie softly out of the room, and with a 
quiet joy in my heart, I went away. 

That afternoon I was summoned to Mr. Philip 
Crawford’s house to be present at the informal' 
court of inquiry which was to interrogate Gregory 
Hall. 

Hall was summoned by telephone, and not long 
after he arrived. He was cool and collected, as 
usual, and I wondered if even his arrest would 
disturb his calm. 

‘‘We are pursuing the investigation of Mr. 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


305 


Joseph Crawford’s death, Mr. Hall,” the district 
attorney began, “ and w e wish, in the course of 
our inquiries, to ask some questions of you.” 

‘‘ Certainly, sir,” said Gregory Hall, with an 
air of polite indifference. 

And I may as well tell you at the outset,” 
went on Mr. Goodrich, a little irritated at the 
young man’s attitude, ” that you, Mr. Hall, are 
under suspicion.” 

”Yes?” said Hall interrogatively. ‘'But I 
was not here that night.” 

” That’s just the point, sir. You say you were 
not here, but you refuse to say where you were. 
Now, w'herever you may have been that night, a 
frank admission of it will do yon less harm than 
this incriminating concealment of the truth.” 

“ In tliat case,” said Hall easily, “ I suppose I 
may as well tell you. But first, since you prac- 
tically accuse me, may I ask if any new developments 
have been brought to light ? ” 

“ One has,” said Mr. Goodrich. “ The missing 
will has been found.” 

“ What ? ” cried Hall, unable to conceal his 
satisfaction at this information. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at 
the plainly apparent mercenary spirit of the man; 
“yes, the will of Mr. Joseph Crawford, which be- 
20 


306 


THE GOLD BAG 


queaths the bulk of his estate to Miss Lloyd, is safe 
in Mr. Randolph’s possession. But that fact in no 
way affects your connection with the case, or our 
desire to learn where you were on Tuesday night.” 

Pardon me, Mr. Goodrich ; I didn’t hear all 
that you said.’’ 

Bluffing again, thought I ; and, truly, it seemed 
to me rather a clever way to gain time for con- 
sideration, and yet let his answers appear spon- 
taneous. 

The district attorney repeated his question, and 
now Gregory Hall answered deliberately: 

** I still refuse to tell you where I was. It in 
no way affects the case; it is a private matter of 
my own. I was in New York City from the time 
I left West Sedgwick at six o’clock on Monday, 
until I returned the next morning. Further than 
that I will give no account of my doings.” 

‘‘Then we must assume you were engaged -in 
some occupation of which you are ashamed to tell.” 

Hall shrugged his shoulders. “ You may assume 
what you choose,” he said. “ I was not here, I had 
no hand in Mr. Crawford’s death, and knew nothing 
of it until my return next day.” 

“ You knew Mr. Crawford kept a revolver in 
his desk. You must know it is not there now.” 

Hall looked troubled. 


THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN 


807 


“ I know nothing about that revolver,” he said. 
“ I saw it the day Mr. Philip Crawford brought it 
there, but I have never seen it since.” 

This sounded honest enough, but if he were 
the criminal, he would, of course, make these same 
avowals. 

‘^Well, Mr. Hall,” said the district attorney, 
with an air of finality, we suspect you. We hold 
that you had motive, opportunity, and means for 
this crime. Therefore, unless you can prove an 
alibi for Tuesday night, and bring witnesses to 
prove where you were, we must arrest you, on 
suspicion, for the murder of Joseph Crawford.” 

Gregory Hall deliberated silently for a few 
moments, then he said: 

‘‘ I am innocent. But I persist in my refusal 
to allow intrusion on my private and personal 
affairs. Arrest me if you will, but you will yet 
learn your mistake.” 

I can never explain it, even to myself, but some- 
thing in the man’s tone and manner convinced me, 
even against my own will, that he spoke the truth. 


XX 


FLEMING STONE 

The news of Gregory Hall’s arrest flew through 
the town like wildfire. 

That evening I went to call on Florence Lloyd, 
though I had little hope that she would see me. 

To my surprise, however, she welcomed me 
almost eagerly, and, though I knew she wanted 
to see me only for what legal help I might give 
her, I was glad even of this. 

And yet her manner was far from impersonal. 
Indeed, she showed a slight embarrassment in my 
presence, which, if I had dared, I should have been 
glad to think meant a growing interest in our 
friendship. 

“ You have heard all? ” I asked, knowing from 
her manner that she had. 

Yes,” she replied; '‘Mr. Hall was here for 
dinner, and then — then he went away to ” 

" To prison,” I finished quietly. " Florence, 
I cannot think he is the murderer of your uncle/’ 

If she noticed this, my first use of her Christian 
name, she offered no remonstrance, and I went on : 

“To be sure, they have proved that he had 
308 


FLEMING STONE 


309 


motive, means, opportunity, and all that, but it 
is only indefinite evidence. If he would but tell 
where he was on Tuesday night, he could so easily 
free himself. Why will he not tell ? ” 

I don’t know,” she said, looking thoughtful. 
“ But I cannot think he was here, either. When 
he said good-by to me to-night, he did not seem 
at all apprehensive. He only said he was arrested 
wrongfully, and that he would soon be set free 
again. You know his way of taking everything 
casually.” 

“ Yes, I do. And now that you are your 
uncle’s heiress, I suppose he no longer wishes to 
break the engagement between you and him.” 

I said this bitterly, for I loathed the nature that 
could ^hus turn about in accordance with the wheel 
of fortune. 

To my surprise, she too spoke bitterly. 

Yes,” she said; “he insists now that we are 
engaged, and that he never really wanted to break 
it. He has shown me positively that it is my 
money that attracts him, and if it were not that I 
don’t want to seem to desert him now, when he is 
in trouble 

She paused, and my heart beat rapidly. Could 
it be that at last she saw Gregory Hall as he really 
was, and that his mercenary spirit had killed her 


310 


THE GOLD BAG 


love for him? At least, she had intimated this, 
and, forcing myself to be content with that for 
the present, I said: 

“ Would you, then, if you could, get him out 
of this trouble ? 

Gladly. I do not think he killed Uncle 
Joseph, but I’m sure I do not know who did. Do 
you ? ” 

I haven’t the least idea,” I answered honestly, 
for there, in Florence Lloyd’s presence, gazing into 
the depths of her clear eyes, my last, faint sus- 
picion of her wrong-doing faded away. ‘‘And it 
is this total lack of suspicion that makes the case 
so simple, and therefore so difficult. A more com- 
plicated case offers some points on which to build 
a theory. I do not blame Mr. Goodrich for sus- 
pecting Mr. Hall, for there seems to be no one 
else to suspect.” 

Just then Mr. Lemuel Porter dropped in for 
an evening call. Of course, we talked over the 
events of the day, and Mr. Porter was almost 
vehement in his denunciation of the sudden move 
of the district attorney. 

“ It’s absurd,” he said, “ utterly absurd. 
Gregory Hall never did the thing. I’ve known 
Hall for years, and he isn’t that sort of a man. 
I believe Philip Crawford’s story, of course, but 


FLEMING STONE 


311 


the murderer, who came into the office after 
Florence’s visit to her uncle, and before Philip 
arrived, was some stranger from out of town — 
some man whom none of us know; who had some 
grievance against Joseph, and who deliberately 
came and went during that midnight hour.” 

I agreed with Mr. Porter. I had thought all 
along it was some one unknown to the Sedgwick 
people, but some one well known to Joseph Craw- 
ford. For, had it been an ordinary burglar, the 
victim would at least have raised a protecting hand. 

“ Of course Hall will be set free at once,” 
continued Mr. Porter, but to arrest him was a 
foolish thing to do.” 

“ Still, he ought to prove his alibi,” I said. 

“ Very well, then ; make him prove it. Give 
him the third degree, if necessary, and find out 
where he was on Tuesday night.” 

I doubt if they could get it out of him,” I 
observed^ ‘‘if he continues determined not to tell.” 

“ Then he deserves his fate,” said Mr. Porter, 
a little petulantly. “ He can free himself by a 
word. If he refuses to do so, it’s his own 
business.” 

“ But I’d like to help him,” said Florence, almost 
timidly. “ Is there no way I can do so, Mr. 
Burroughs ? ” 


312 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ Indeed there is/’ I said. “ You are a rich 
woman now; use some of your wealth to employ 
the services of Fleming Stone, and I can assure you 
the truth will be discovered.” 

Indeed I will,” said Florence. “ Please send 
for him at once.” 

‘‘ Nonsense ! ” said Mr. Porter. “ It isn’t 
necessary at all. Mr. Burroughs here, and young 
Parmalee, are all the detectives we need. Get Hall 
to free himself, as he can easily do, and then set 
to work in earnest to run down the real villain.” 

No, Mr. Porter,” said Florence, with firm- 
ness ; “ Gr^ory will not tell his secret, whatever 
it is. I know his stubborn nature. He’ll stay in 
prison until he’s freed, as he is sure he will be, 
but he won’t tell what he has determined not to 
divulge. No, I am glad I can do something definite 
at last toward avenging Uncle Joseph’s death. 
Please send for Mr. Stone, Mr. Burroughs, and I 
will gladly pay his fees and expenses.” Mr. Porter 
expostulated further, but to no avail. Florence 
insisted on sending for the great detective. 

So I sent for him. 

He came two days later, and in the interval 
nothing further had been learned from Gregory 
Hall. The man was an enigma to me. He was 
calm and impassive as ever. Courteous, though 


FLEMING STONE 


313 


never cordial, and apparently without the least ap- 
prehension of ever being convicted for the crime 
which had caused his arrest. 

Indeed, 'he acted just as an innocent man would 
act; innocent of the murder, that is, but resolved 
to conceal his whereabouts of Tuesday night, what- 
ever that resolve might imply. 

To me, it did not imply crime. Something he 
wished to conceal, certainly; but I could not think 
a criminal would act so. A criminal is usually 
ready with an alibi, whether it can be proved or 
not. 

When Fleming Stone arrived I met him at 
the station and took him at once to the inn, where 
I had engaged rooms for him. 

We first had a long conversation alone, in which 
I told him everything I knew concerning the 
murder. 

‘'When did it happen?” he asked, for, though 
he had read some of the newspaper accounts, the 
date had escaped him. 

I told him, and added, “Why, I was called 
here just after I left you at the Metropolis Hotel 
that morning. Don't you remember, you deduced 
a lot of information from a pair of shoes which 
w^ere waiting to be cleaned ? ” 


314 


THE GOLD BAG 


‘‘ Yes, I remember,’' said Stone, smiling a little 
at the recollection. 

“ And I tried to make similar deductions from 
the gold bag and the newspaper, but I couldn’t do 
it. I bungled matters every time. My deductions 
are mostly from the witnesses’ looks or tones when 
giving evidence.” 

On the stand ? ” 

Not necessarily on the stand. I’ve learned 
much from talking to the principals informally.’* 

And where do your suspicions point ? ” 

“ Nowhere. I’ve suspected Florence Lloyd and 
Gregory Hall, in turn, and in collusion; but now 
I suspect neither of them.” 

‘‘Why not Hall?” 

“ His manner is too frank and unconcerned.” 

“ A good bluff for a criminal to use.” 

“ Then he won’t tell where he was that night.” 

“ If he is the murderer, he can't tell. A false 
alibi is so easily riddled. It’s rather clever to keep 
doggedly silent ; but what does he say is his 
reason ? ” 

“ He won’t give any reason. He has determined 
to keep up that calm, indifferent pose, and though 
it is aggravating, I must admit it serves his pur- 
pose well.” 


FLEMING STONE 


315 


** How did they find him the morning after the 
murder ? '' 

“ Let me see ; I believe the coroner said he 
telephoned first to Hall’s club. But the steward 
said Hall didn’t stay there, as there was no vacant 
room, and that he had stayed all night at a hotel.” 

‘‘ What hotel? ” 

I don’t know. The coroner asked the steward, 
but he didn’t know.” 

Didn’t he find out from Hall, afterward ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Stone ; perhaps the coroner 
asked him, but if he did, I doubt if Hall told. It 
didn’t seem to me important.” 

Burroughs, my son, you should have learned 
every detail of Hall’s doings that night.” 

But if he were not in West Sedgwick, what 
difference could it possibly make where he was ? ” 

“ One never knows what difference anything 
will make until the difference is made. That’s 
oracular, but it means more than it sounds. How- 
ever, go on.” 

I went on, and I even told him what Florence 
had told me concerning the possibility of Hall’s 
interest in another woman. 

At last we are getting to it,” said Stone ; 
** why in the name of all good detectives, didn’t 
you hunt up that other woman ? ” 


316 


THE GOLD BAG 


But she is perhaps only a figment of Miss 
Lloyd’s brain/’ 

‘‘ Figments of the brains of engaged young 
ladies are apt to have a solid foundation of flesh 
and blood. I think much could be learned con- 
cerning Mr. Hall’s straying fancy. But tell me 
again about his attitude toward Miss Lloyd, in the 
successive developments of the will question.” 

Fleming Stone was deeply interested as I re- 
hearsed how, when Florence was supposed to be 
penniless, he wished to break the engagement. 
When Philip Crawford offered to provide for her, 
Mr. Hall was uncertain; but when the will was 
found, and Florence was known to inherit all her 
uncle’s property, then Gregory Hall not only held 
her to the engagement, but said he had never wished 
to break it. 

‘‘ H’m,” said Stone. Pretty clear that the 
young man is a fortune-hunter.” 

“ He is,” I agreed. “ I felt sure of that from 
the first.” 

And he is now under arrest, calmly waiting 
for some one to prove his innocence, so he can 
marry the heiress.” 

That’s about the size of it,” I said. But 
I don’t think Florence is quite as much in love 


FLEMING STONE 


317 


with him as she was. She seems to havfe realized 
his mercenary spirit.” 

Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or 
manner disclosed to this astute man the state of 
my own affections, for he gave me a quizzical 
glance, and said, ‘‘ 0-ho ! sits the wind in that 
quarter? ” 

“ Yes,” I said, determined to be frank with 
him. “ It does. I want you to free Gregory Hall, 
if he’s innocent. Then if, for any reason. Miss 
Lloyd sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most certainly 
try to win her affections. As I came to this deter- 
mination when she was supposed to be penniless, 
I can scarcely be accused of fortune-hunting my- 
self.” 

‘‘ Indeed, you can’t, old chap. You’re not that 
sort. Well, let’s go to see your district attorney 
and his precious prisoner, and see what’s to be 
done.” 

We went to the district attorney’s office, and, 
later, accompanied by him and by Mr. Randolph, 
we visited Gregory Hall. 

As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same 
unperturbed manner he always showed, and when 
Fleming Stone was introduced, Hall* greeted him 
coldly, with absolutely no show of interest in the 
man or his work. 


318 


THE GOLD BAG 


Fleming Stone’s own kindly face took on a 
slight expression of hauteur, as he noticed his re- 
ception, but he said, pleasantly enough: 

“ I am here in an effort to aid in establishing 
your innocence, Mr. Hall.” 

‘‘ I beg your pardon ? ” said Hall listlessly. 

I wondered whether this asking to have a re- 
mark repeated was merely a foolish habit of Hall’s, 
or whether, as I had heretofore guessed, it was a 
ruse to gain time. 

Fleming Stone looked at him a little more 
sharply as he repeated his remark in clear, even 
tones. 

Thank you,” said Hall, pleasantly enough. 
“ I shall be glad to be free from this unjust sus- 
picion.” 

And as a bit of friendly advice,” went on 
Stone, I strongly urge that you reveal to us, 
confidentially, where you were on Tuesday night.” 

Hall looked the speaker straight in the eye. 

‘‘That,” he said, “ I must still refuse to do.” 

Fleming Stone rose and walked toward the 
window. 

“ I think,” he said, “ the proof of your innocence 
may depend upon this point.” 

Gregory Hall turned his head, and followed 
Stone with his eyes. 


FLEMING STONE 


319 


“What did you say, Mr. Stone?’* he asked 
quietly. 

The detective returned to his seat. 

“ I said,” he replied, “ that the proof of your 
innocence might depend on your telling this secret 
of yours. But I begin to think now you will be 
freed from suspicion whether you tell it or not.” 

Instead of looking glad at this assurance, 
Gregory Hall gave a start, and an expression of 
fear came into his eyes. 

“ What do you mean ? ” he said. 

“Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. 
Hall ? ” went on Fleming Stone in a suave voice. 

“Yes; several. Why?” 

“ I do not ask to read them. Merely show me 
the lot.” 

With what seemed to be an unwilling but en- 
forced movement, Mr. Hall drew four or five letters 
from his breast pocket and handed them to Fleming 
Stone. 

“ They’ve all been looked over, Mr. Stone,” 
said the district attorney ; “ and they have no bear- 
ing on the matter of the crime.” 

“ Oh, I don’t want to read them,” said the 
detective. 

He ran over the lot carelessly, not taking the 


320 


THE GOLD BAG 


sheets from the envelopes, and returned them to 
their owner. 

Gregory Hall looked at him as if fascinated. 
What revelation was this man about to make? 

‘'Mr. Hall,” Fleming Stone began, “ I’ve no 
intention of forcing your secret from you. But I 
shall ask you some questions, and you may do as 
you like about answering them. First, you refuse 
to tell where you were during the night last 
Tuesday. I take it, you mean you refuse to tell 
how or where you spent the evening. Now, will 
you tell us where you lodged that night? ” 

“I fail to see any reason for telling you,” 
answered Hall, after a moment’s thought. “ I have 
said I was in New York City, that is enough.” 

“ The reason you may as well tell us,” went 
on Mr. Stone, “ is because it is a very simple matter 
for us to find out. You doubtless were at some 
hotel, and you went there because you could not 
get a room at your club. In fact, this was stated 
when the coroner telephoned for you, the morning 
after the murder. I mean, it was stated that the 
club bed-rooms were all occupied. I assume, there- 
fore, that you lodged at some hotel, and, as a 
canvass of the city hotels would be a simple matter, 
you may as well save us that trouble.” 

“Oh, very well,” said Gregory Hall sullenly; 


FLEMING STONE 


321 


** then I did -spend the night at a hotel. It was the 
Metropolis Hotel, and you will find my name duly 
on the register/' 

I have no doubt of it," said Stone pleasantly. 
“Now that you have told us this, have you any 
objection to telling us at what time you returned 
to the hotel, after your evening's occupation, what- 
ever it may have been ? " 

“ Eh ? " said Hall abstractedly. He turned his 
head as he spoke, and Fleming Stone threw me a 
quizzical smile which I didn't in the least under- 
stand. 

“ You may as well tell us," said Stone, after 
he had repeated his question, “ for if you withhold 
it, the night clerk can give us this information." 

“ Well," said Hall, who now looked distinctly 
sulky, “ I don't remember exactly, but I think I 
turned in somewhere between twelve and one 
o'clock." 

“ And as it was a late hour, you slept rather 
late next morning," suggested Stone. 

“ Oh, I don't know. I was at Mr. Crawford’s 
New York office by half-past ten." 

“ A strange coincidence, Burroughs," said 
Fleming Stone, turning to me. 

“Eh? Beg pardon?" said Hall, turning his 
head also. 

21 


322 


THE GOLD BAG 


“ Mr. Hall/' said Stone, suddenly facing him 
again, are you deaf ? Why do you ask to have 
remarks repeated?" 

Hall looked slightly apologetic. I am a little 
deaf," he said ; “ but only in one ear. And only 
at times — or, rather, it’s worse at times. If I have 
a cold, for instance." 

“Or in damp weather?" said Stone. “Mr. 
Hall, I have questioned you enough. I will now 
tell these gentlemen, since you refuse to do so, 
where you were on the night of Mr. Crawford’s 
murder. You were not in West Sedgwick, or near 
it. You are absolutel}^ innocent of the crime or 
any part in it." 

Gregory Hall straightened up perceptibly, like 
a man exonerated from all blame. But he quailed 
again, as Fleming Stone, looking straight at him, 
continued: “You left West Sedgwick at six that 
evening, as you have said. You registered at the 
Metropolis Hotel, after learning that you could 
not get a room at your club. And then — you went 
over to Brooklyn to meet, or to call on, a young 
woman living in that borough. You took her back 
to New York to the theatre or some such enter- 
tainment, and afterward escorted her back to her 
home. The young woman wore a street costume, 
by which I mean a cloth gown without a train. 


FLEMING STONE 


S2S 


You did not have a cab, but, after leaving the 
car, you walked for a rather long distance in 
Brooklyn. It was raining, and you were both 
under one umbrella. Am I correct, so far?’’ 

At last Gregory Hall’s calm was disturbed. He 
looked at Fleming Stone as at a supernatural being. 
And small wonder. For the truth of Stone’s state- 
ments was evident from Hall’s amazement at them. 

“You — you saw us!” he gasped. 

“No, I didn’t see you ; it is merely a matter 
of observation, deduction, and memory. You 
recollect the muddy shoes ? ” he added, turning to 
me. 

Did I recollect ! Well, rather ! And it certainly 
was a coincidence that we had chanced to examine 
those shoes that morning at the hotel. 

As for Mr. Randolph and the district attorney, 
they w^ere quite as much surprised as Hall. 

“ Can you prove this astonishing story, Mr. 
Stone ? ” asked Mr. Goodrich, with an incredulous 
look. 

“Oh, yes, in lots of ways,” returned Stone. 
“ For one thing, Mr. Hall has in his pocket now a 
letter from the young lady. The whole matter 
is of no great importance except as it proves Mr. 
Hall was not in West Sedgwick that night, and 
so is not the murderer.” 


BU 


THE GOLD BAG 


‘‘But why conceal so simple a matter? Why 
refuse to tell of the episode? asked Mr. Randolph. 

“ Because/' and now Fleming Stone looked at 
V Hall with accusation in his glance — “ because Mr. 
Hall is very anxious that his fiancee shall not know 
of his attentions to the young lady in Brooklyn." 

“0-ho!” said Mr. Goodrich, with sudden en- 
lightenment. “I see it all now. Is it the truth, 
Mr. Hall? Did you go to Brooklyn and back that 
night, as Mr. Stone has described ? 

Gregory Hall fidgeted in an embarrassed way. 
But, unable to escape the piercing gaze of Stone's 
eyes, he admitted grudgingly that the detective had 
told the truth, adding, “ But it's wizardry, that's 
what it is ! How could he know ? " 

“ I had reason for suspicion," said Stone ; “ and 
when I found you were deaf in your right ear, 
and that you had in your pocket a letter addressed 
in a feminine hand, and postmarked ‘ Brooklyn,' I 
was sure." 

“ It’s all true," said Hall slowly. “ You have 
the facts all right. But, unless you have had me 
shadowed, will you tell me how you knew it all ? " 

And then Fleming Stone told of his observa- 
tions and deductions when we noticed the muddied 
shoes at the Metropolis Hotel that morning. 

“ But," he said, as he concluded, " when I 


FLEMING STONE 


825 


hastily adjudged the young lady to be deaf in the 
left ear, I see now I was mistaken. As soon as I 
realized Mr. Hall himself is deaf in the right ear, 
especially so in damp or wet weather, I saw that 
it fitted the case as well as if the lady had been 
deaf in her left ear. Then a note in his pocket 
from a lady in Brooklyn made me quite sure I was 
right.^^ 

“ But, Mr. Stone,” said Lawyer Randolph, ** it 
is very astonishing that you should make those 
deductions from those shoes, and then come out 
here and meet the owner of the shoes.” 

“ It seems more remarkable than it really is, 
Mr. Randolph,” was the response ; “ for I am 
continually observing whatever comes to my notice. 
Hundreds of my deductions are never verified, or 
even thought of again ; so it is not so strange that 
now and then one should prove of use in my work.” 

Well,” said the district attorney, “ it seems 
wonderful to me. But now that Mr. Hall has 
proved his alibi, or, rather, Mr. Stone has proved 
it for him, we must begin anew our search for 
the real criminal.” 

One moment,” said Gregory Hall. ** As you 
know, gentlemen, I endeavored to keep this little 
matter of my going to Brooklyn a secret. As it 
has no possible bearing on the case of Mr. Crawford, 


826 


THE GOLD BAG 


may I ask of you to respect my desire that you 
say nothing about it ? 

For my part/' said the district attorney, I 
am quite willing to grant Mr. Hall's request. I 
have put him to unnecessary trouble and embar- 
rassment by having him arrested, and I shall be 
glad to do him this favor that he asks, by way of 
amends." 

But Mr. Randolph seemed reluctant to make 
the required promise, and Fleming Stone looked 
at Hall, and said nothing. 

Then I spoke out, and, perhaps with scant 
courtesy, I said: 

“ I, for one, refuse to keep this revelation a 
secret. It was discovered by the detective engaged 
by Miss Lloyd. Therefore, I think Miss Lloyd is 
entitled to the knowledge we have thus gained." 

Mr. Randolph looked at me with approval. He 
was a good friend of Florence Lloyd, and he was 
of no mind to hide from her something which it 
might be better for her to know. 

Gregory Hall set his lips together in a way 
which argued no pleasant feelings toward me, but 
he said nothing then. He was forthwith released 
from custody, and the rest of us separated, having 
arranged to meet that evening at Miss Lloyd's 
home to discuss matters. 


XXI 


THE DISCLOSURE 

Except the half-hour required for a hasty 
dinner, Fleming Stone devoted the intervening time 
to looking over the reports of the coroner’s inquest, 
and in asking me questions about all the people 
who were connected with the affair. 

‘‘ Burroughs,” he said at last, every one who 
is interested in Joseph Crawford’s death has sus- 
pected Gregory Hall, except one person. Not every- 
body said they suspected him, but they did, all the 
same. Even Miss Lloyd wasn’t sure that Hall 
wasn’t the criminal. Now, there’s just one person 
who declares that Hall did not do it, and that he 
is not implicated. Why should this person feel so 
sure of Hall’s innocence? And, furthermore, my 
boy, here are a few more important questions. In 
which drawer of the desk was the revolver kept ? ” 
The upper right-hand drawer,” I replied. 

‘‘ I mean, what else was in that drawer ? ” 

“ Oh, important, valuable memoranda of Mr. 
Crawford’s stocks and bonds.” 

‘‘ Do you mean stock certificates and actual 
bonds? 

8£7 


328 


THE GOLD BAG 


No; merely lists and certain data referring 
to them. The certificates themselves were in the 
bank.’^ 

“ And the will — where had that been kept ? ” 

“ In a drawer on the other side of the desk. 
I know all these things, because with the lawyer 
and Mr. Philip, Crawford, I have been through all 
the papers of the estate.’' 

Well, then. Burroughs, let us build up the 
scene. Mr. Joseph Crawford, after returning from 
his lawyer’s that night, goes to his office. Natur- 
ally, he takes out his will, that he thinks of chang- 
ing, and — we’ll say — it is lying on his desk when 
Mr. Lemuel Porter calls. He talks of other mat- 
ters, and the will still lies there unheeded. It is 
there when Miss Lloyd comes down later. She has 
said so. It remains there until- much later — when 
Philip Crawford comes, and, after discovering that 
his brother is dead, sees the will still on the desk 
and takes it away with him, and also sees the pistol 
on the desk, and takes that, too. Now, granting 
that the murderer came between the time Miss 
Lloyd left the office and the time Philip Crawford 
came there, then it was while the murderer was 
present that the drawer which held the pistol was 
opened, the pistol taken out, and the murder com- 
mitted. Since Mr. Joseph Crawford showed no 


THE DISCLOSURE 


329 


sign of fear of violence, the murderer must have 
been, not a burglar or an unwelcome intruder, but 
a friend, or an acquaintance, at least. His visit 
must have been the reason for opening that drawer, 
and that not to get the pistol, but to look at or 
discuss the papers contained in that drawer. The 
pistol, thus disclosed, was temptingly near the hand 
of the visitor, and, for some reason connected with 
the papers in that drawer, the pistol was used by 
the visitor — suddenly, unpremeditatedly, but with 
deadly intent at the moment.’’ 

But who ” I began. 

Hush,” he said, ‘‘ I see it all now — or almost 
all. Let us go to Philip Crawford’s at once — 
before it is time to go to Miss Lloyd’s.” 

We did so, and Fleming Stone, in a short 
business talk with Mr. Crawford, learned all that 
he wanted to know. Then we three went over 
to Florence Lloyd’s home. 

Awaiting us were several people. The district 
attorney, of course, and Lawyer Randolph. Also 
Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who had been asked 
to be present. Gregory Hall was there, too, and 
from his crestfallen expression, I couldn’t help 
thinking that he had had an unsatisfactory inter- 
view with Florence. 


330 


THE GOLD BAG 


As we all sat round the library, Fleming Stone 
was the principal speaker. 

He said : I have come here at Miss Lloyd’s 
request, to discover, if possible, the murderer of 
her uncle, Mr. Joseph Crawford. I have learned 
the identity of the assassin, and, if you all wish me 
to, I will now divulge it.” 

We do wish you to, Mr. Stone,” said Mr. 
Goodrich, and his voice trembled a little, for he 
knew not where the blow might fall. But after 
Fleming Stone’s wonderful detective work in the 
case of Gregory Hall, the district attorney felt 
full confidence in his powers. 

Sitting quietly by the library table, with the 
eyes of all the company upon him, Fleming Stone 
said, in effect, to them just what he had said to 
me. He told of the revolver in the drawer with 
the financial papers. He told how the midnight 
visitor must have been some friend or neighbor, 
whose coming would in no way startle or alarm 
Mr. Crawford, and whose interest in the question 
of stocks was desperate. 

And then Fleming Stone turned suddenly to 
Lemuel Porter, and said : “ Shall I go on, Mr. 
Porter, or will you confess here and now?” 

It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen. Hitherto 
unsuspected, the guilt of Lemuel Porter was now 


THE DISCLOSURE 


331 


apparent beyond all doubt. White-faced and shak- 
ing, his burning eyes glared at Fleming Stone. 

What are you ? ” he whispered, in hoarse, 
hissing tones. I feared you, and I was right to 
fear you. I have heard of you before. I tried 
to prevent your coming here, but I could not. And 
I knew, when you came, that I was doomed — 
doomed ! 

“ Yes,’^ he went on, looking around at the 
startled faces. ‘‘ Yes, I killed Joseph Crawford. 
If I had not, he would have ruined me — financially. 
Randolph knows that — and Philip Crawford, too. 
I had no thought of murder in my heart. I came 
here late that night to renew the request I had 
made in my earlier visit that evening — that Joseph 
Crawford would unload his X. Y. stock gradually, 
and in that way save me. I had overtraded ; I had 
pyramided my paper profits until my aflairs were 
in such a state that a sudden drop of ten points 
would wipe rfte out entirely. But Joseph Craw- 
ford was adamant to my entreaties. He said he 
w^ould see to it that at the opening of the market 
the next morning X. Y. stock should be ham- 
mered down out of sight. Details are unnecessary. 
You lawyers and financial men understand. It 
was in his power to ruin or to save me and he 
chose to ruin me. I know why, but that concerns 


332 


THE GOLD BAG 


no one here. Then, as by chance, he moved a 
paper in the drawer, and I saw the pistol. In 
a moment of blind rage I grasped it and shot 
him. Death was instantaneous. Like one in a 
dream, I laid down the pistol, and came away. I 
was saved, but at what a cost! No one, I think, 
saw me come or go. I was afterward puzzled 
to know what became of the pistol, and of the 
will which lay on the desk when I was there. These 
matters have since been explained. Philip Craw- 
ford is as much a criminal as I. I shot a man, but 
he robbed the dead. He has confessed and made 
restitution, so he merits no punishment. In the 
nature of things, I cannot do that, but I can at least 
cheat the gallows.*’ 

With these words, Mr. Porter put something 
into his mouth and swallowed it. 

Several people started toward him in dismay, 
but he waved them back, saying: 

Too late. Good-by, all. If possible, do not 
let my wife know the truth. Can’t you tell her — I — 
I died of heart failure — or — something like that?” 

The poison he had taken was of quick effect. 
Though a doctor was telephoned for at once, Mr. 
Porter was dead before he came. 

Everything was now made clear, and Fleming 
Stone’s work in West Sedgwick was done. 


THE DISCLOSURE 


833 


I was chagrined, for I felt that all he had dis- 
covered, I ought to have found out for myself. 

But as I glanced at Florence, and saw her 
lovely eyes fixed on me, I knew that one reason 
I had failed in my work was because of her dis* 
tracting influence on it. 

Take me away from here,’' she said, and I 
gently led her from the library. 

We went into the small drawing-room, and, 
unable to restrain my eagerness, I said: 

“Tell me, dear, have you broken with Hall?” 

“Yes,” she said, looking up shyly into my 
face. “ I learned from his own lips the story 
of the Brooklyn girl. Then I knew that he really 
loves her, but wanted to marry me for my fortime. 
This knowledge was enough for me. I realize now 
that I never loved Gregory, and I have told him so.” 

“And you do love somebody else?” I whis- 
pered ecstatically, “ Oh, Florence ! I know this 
is not the time or the place, but just tell me, dear, 
if you ever love any one, it will be ” 

“ You,” she murmured softly, and I was content. 


The End 


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